Released: The Shapeshifter's Library #1

By Amber Polo

When Librarian Liberty Cutter’s library goes up in flames, the town relocates the library to an abandoned academy. Liberty feels eyes watching her from the derelict structure’s gothic windows, but never imagines the truth is stranger than fiction – until she meets a talking dog.

The dog tells her a pack of book-burning werewolves cursed the building. Plus, beneath the library an ancient race of dog-shifters work to protect the world’s knowledge. Funded by internet giant Zoogle, these dog-shifting scholars enjoy their Starbarks coffeehouse as they research their way to freedom. Until the public library’s zany librarians move in…and things begin to shift.

Werewolf restauranteur Sybilla itches to become pack alpha and stoops to adding wolfsbane to her husband’s tea and using werewolf genre readers to infiltrate Liberty’s library

Chronus, the Old English Sheepdog headmaster, must persuade Liberty to believe in him and his world because Liberty holds the key to the dog-shifters’ freedom – and his heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Jun 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781094416991

Amber Polo

Amber Polo is best known for her Shapeshifters’ Library series, a light urban fantasy filled with dog-shifting librarians and book burning werewolves. Released, Retrieved, Recovered, and Reprinted.Amber's love of books drew her into a career as a librarian- and later a writer. One day a plane flew past her office window and she turned her pen to her own Arizona airpark backyard and Heads in the Clouds was the result. Hearts in the Vortex, a Sedona paranormal romance, was also is set in amazing Arizona.Following her trail back to libraries, The Pharaoh & the Librarian imagines what would have happened if Cleopatra had faked her death and escaped on a pirate ship? While her sister sailed for Wales with the most valuable ancient books from her Library of Alexandria? And they both landed in an imagined new world filled with crypto-creatures and historical humans?In addition to her novels, she is proud of Relaxing the Writer: Guidebook to the Writer’s High which offers hundreds of tips to help writers and readers relax and her self-produced Relaxation One Breath at a Time, an audio that uses her voice to teach relaxation to calm your body and mind and/or help you fall asleep.

Book preview

ONE

Dogged by disappointment, Liberty Cutter walked down the steps from her apartment in the gray Victorian. The morning’s dark skies fit her mood exactly. Restless all night. Twice she’d gotten up. First to write a hate-filled resignation letter to the Library Board that had employed her for the past five years, then to browse job openings on the internet. Just as she’d managed to fall asleep, a fire truck siren screeched her awake.

Dewey be damned, it was time to cut her losses. Besides wanting to run her own small town library, she’d hoped to base her PhD thesis on the mysterious history of the Shipsfeather Library, but neither in State Archives nor local records had she uncovered one scrap of data earlier than the construction of the current building. Not one resident would talk about the town’s history.

Liberty had been born in Shipsfeather and had lived here until she was five years old when her mother disappeared. Her four law librarian aunts had swooped into town, taken her home, and adopted her. They refused to talk to her about her parents. Or Shipsfeather.

She trudged along River Road, one sensible shoe-step at a time. This town had looked like a perfect opportunity to bring new life to an old library, but she’d been completely thwarted on every page. Why hadn’t she been suspicious when no other librarian in the entire country had applied for the job of library director? She would shut this chapter in her life like a book with a sad ending.

She slowed her steps as she approached an abandoned building partially hidden behind feral foliage. The academy, as everyone called the old school, with its formal columns and high rounded dome, had been boarded up long before she’d moved to town. It held a mystical fascination for her from the first day she saw its dingy gray stones.

Every morning she sensed a person watching her from behind a cloudy window and once after the dogwood leaves had fallen, she glimpsed a movement inside.

Despite its spooky façade, the once proud edifice never made her feel creepy. Looking at it always comforted her and she’d continue on her way, ready to face the day.

She sniffed the air. Shipsfeather was a clean rural town without industry, yet she recognized the smell of sickly acrid smoke.

A siren cut the morning quiet and she began to run.

Toward the library. Her library.

She turned onto the street from where she could see the red brick Carnegie library and faced a wall of black smoke. A second siren split the air. A fire truck passed so close, the stiff yellow coat of a firefighter brushed her arm.

She plunged into smoke so thick she could only see five feet before her nose. Following the truck to a yellow tape draped between sawhorses, she lifted a section, and ducked under.

A firefighter’s outstretched arm stopped her. Stay back behind the line, ma’am.

She pushed forward. The yellow-coated figure grasped her arm. I said no trespassing.

Her eyes stung. She blinked back tears. The smoke swirled and she saw flames shooting from the roof of the blood-red library. Her knees wobbled and she let out a cry.

Ms. Cutter? the voice under the helmet asked.

Liberty coughed and looked up into the sooty face of Bridget Bartlett, the firefighter wife of Webster Bartlett, the library’s reference librarian. Bridget, what happened?

Clive spotted smoke when he opened the drugstore. It got a good start. We’ll shut this down. Too late for much else.

What do you mean? Liberty rubbed her eyes with her sleeve.

Sorry, Ms. Cutter. We can’t save the contents.

Liberty closed her stinging eyes. You mean the books? She didn’t expect an answer. This is the first Monday morning I haven’t gone in early. Maybe I could have—

Just as well. You could have been trapped.

Tell me the building was empty.

The petite woman under the bulky fire garb nodded. Our job now is to keep sparks from spreading to other buildings.

Liberty leaned against the side of Shipsfeather’s once-shiny red fire truck.

She’d never seen a worse sight than the hungry flames flicking out of broken windows. Her wonderful library was gone. What would the town do? What would she do?

A shape emerged from the library’s side exit. An animal limped on stiff awkward legs towards Main Street. Through the smoke the profile resembled a large gimpy dog or rangy wolf. It couldn’t be a wolf. About to run forward to see if the dog was hurt, she saw the creature cross the street toward the drug store. It seemed to grow taller, rear up on hind legs, and step forward on two. Liberty blinked soot from her eyes and when she opened them again the shape had disappeared back into a swirl of smoke.

Before Liberty could process what she’d seen, Bridget came back along the tape. The fire’s under control but it’ll be a while before we know the extent of the damage. Or the cause. She raised the tape and Liberty stooped back under.

At the edge of the crowd stood a group of staff members covering their faces. Liberty heard, No. No, repeated over and over. Bliss D. Light, the Children’s Librarian, rushed over, hugged her, and whispered, Don’t worry. Pluto is retrograde but I see regeneration.

Liberty pulled away from Bliss, and, thank Melville, all staff who started work at eight o’clock stood staring at their burning library. As flames were beaten back, the smoke thickened into a sooty fog and her nostrils no longer recoiled at the reeking air.

Farther down the street the former Library Director Elsie Dustbunnie looked as old as the long-deceased Mr. Dewey. Liberty had never seen the withered woman read a book. Elsie had once announced that her job had been to keep the books on the shelf, not to send them out the door with any fool bookworm.

Through smoggy air, Liberty saw Elsie straighten as tall as her twisted body allowed, lean toward her old friend Helga, and laugh. That could not be right. Even those dour nasty women must be crying.

Harold Dinzelbacher, Chairman of the Library Board of Trustees, strode toward Liberty. As usual, his wolfish grin made Liberty shiver. Harold, too, did not look distraught. The banker was the main reason she wanted to quit. For five years he’d blocked her every idea to bring new books and modern technology into the library. He insisted Elsie Dustbunnie, though retired, approve every change.

When he told her she looked too young to run a library, she’d disguised her youthful appearance by dressing like the town’s previous dowdy director, yet she’d not been able to hide her youthful enthusiasm or gain the Board Chairman’s trust. Her looks had nothing to do with her failure, nor had her youth. Harold had wanted her to fail and had done everything in his power to make certain she did.

Harold met her gaze. Ms. Cutter, we must move forward from this tragedy.

She looked into his too-bright eyes. Right. Her throat raw and her voice raspy, she asked, What do you want me to do? With every word she swallowed more smoke. Put out the fire?

No need to be sarcastic. You are in charge of this library. Send the employees home. I’ll attend to Ms. Dustbunnie. She’s devastated.

The Bunnie did not look devastated, just sootier than the others. Liberty turned away from Harold toward a crowd of library patrons.

A middle-aged woman cried, Ms. Cutter, what are we going to do without our library?

Liberty consoled her with a confident, Don’t worry, which she herself did not believe.

One of the story-hour moms shook her head. What will I tell my kids?

A man clutching a stack of books asked, What should I do with these? They’re due today.

She told him, Take them home and keep them safe. Watching a truck spray water into broken windows, she knew , water would ruin everything the fire had not destroyed. She stayed, feeling compelled to watch this library holocaust.

Two hours later, she shuffled home through streets thick with soot. The resignation letter in her briefcase would never be submitted. This town needed a library. It needed her. She couldn’t leave now.

As she approached the old Academy building, she slowed. So often discouraged, now determination held her head high and her steps moved resolutely forward. She glanced toward the old building. Her sooty skin prickled like she was being watched. Or watched over. She’d always been independent and managed for herself. But tonight she felt as if she had a guardian protecting her. And the feeling was not unwelcome.

***

From inside the walls of the old academy building, the watcher stood by the window staring into the night sky. He’d observed the librarian many times as she passed on her way to the library. Often she appeared discouraged, but tonight her stride was determined. The sight of her made his heart race with hope. Through the cloying smoke of a thousand dead books he could smell change in the air.

A shift had begun in Shipsfeather and this woman was destined to be a part of the change.

***

The next morning, Liberty surveyed her filthy sheets and her face streaked with grime and tears, sure she would ever get the sickening smell from her nose or out of her mind.

After a long hot shower, she dressed in an expendable brown dress and headed downtown. The closer she got to the library, the worse the stench. By the time she reached the old school, sidewalks were gritty and bushes dusted with ash. She imagined each speck of burnt paper was a single letter from someone’s favorite book.

Choking back a sob, she stepped closer and looked through the fence at the once elegant building, still standing, while her beloved library was now a skeleton. She saw a shadow in a first floor window and this time she was certain a man watched her. She continued, her step inexplicably more determined.

Averting her eyes from tired firefighters, fire trucks, and barricades, Liberty reached Town Hall. Harold Dinzelbacher, whose five o’clock shadow sprouted like clockwork by mid-morning, waited for her in Mayor Rhoda Sue Rufus’s office. The mayor’s freckled face flamed the exact color of her hennaed hair and she wrinkled her nose as if Liberty stank of scorched wood and charred books.

Harold nodded gravely. We have a crisis, Ms. Cutter.

As if she hadn’t figured that one out.

However, the mayor and I have worked out a solution.

Liberty bit her tongue and kept silent.

Harold continued, We’ve rented a warehouse across town to serve as a temporary library. Salvage what you can, clean things up, order some new materials if you must.

The entire collection needs to be replaced.

The mayor smiled. You may use the fund we created by selling the library building.

Sold? Liberty’s voice cracked. It will take at least two years to build a new one.

The mayor tugged on one of her huge hoop earrings. The town won’t be building a new library.

Liberty leaned forward to make them understand. A warehouse is not a library.

The mayor patted Liberty’s arm. Never fear, Libbie, you will have a library.

Liberty pulled her arm away from the lobster-red fingernails.

Harold smiled. The town has taken possession of the Shipsfeather Academy.

Liberty sat back, thoughts racing. That marvelous old building, so filled with mystery. It was ancient and must be in terrible shape. Maybe completely impractical and not be at all suitable for storing books. But if it were… If it were? It will be the new town library?

Exactly. My bank sold it to the town. We’ll use some of the money that would have been spent to build a new library to renovate that derelict—I mean historic—building.

Actually, a lot of people thought the library had too many books, anyway, the mayor added cheerfully.

What about the old library? Liberty asked.

The mayor’s smile broadened, displaying a mouthful of sparkling teeth. Mr. Dinzelbacher and his lovely wife Sybilla have purchased the building and will rehab it into an upscale restaurant. Rhoda Sue stood. Now all this smoke is making my hair dingy.

Liberty watched the mayor leave and turned to Harold. There’s so much to do.

Perhaps Ms. Dustbunnie would agree to come out of retirement to help.

Bile rose in Liberty’s throat at the very thought. I’ll handle it. Hopefully, insurance money replace all the books.

We’ll use a lot of that money to build barbeque pits in the park. Harold frowned at Liberty’s open mouth. I make decisions good for the entire town, not just a few bookworms.

Liberty left the mayor’s office feeling as hot as her roasted books.

Over the next few days Liberty supervised the installation of surplus desks and shelving into their temporary quarters and the first truck arrived with salvageable contents from the smoldering library. The driver told her the only areas untouched were local history materials and the basement backlog.

Without consulting Harold or Elsie, Liberty phoned the county library director and told her that Shipsfeather would at last become a member of the system. To rebuild, the library needed software and computers.

When the truck left, a library patron who she’d seen at the fire scene set a heavy carton on her table. I figured the library needed books. Behind the old man, more sad-faced citizens entered with overflowing boxes of books. I called everyone I knew. They emptied their home bookshelves.

Liberty peeked into a box of exquisite art books. We can’t take your book collections.

Of course you can. This way everyone in town can use them.

A woman handed Liberty a plate of cookies. What a good idea. I’ll go through my cookbooks.

Liberty smiled and took the plate. No one would go hungry in the temporary quarters.

The disaster brought out the best in everyone. Donations poured in. That evening when Bridget arrived to pick up her husband, Liberty asked her if they knew what started the fire.

The official report will say defective wiring. Bridget’s voice sounded hesitant.

Webster put his arm around his wife. Honey, tell her what you saw.

I saw books heaped in the middle of each room. And I smelled accelerant. Bridget shuddered. This library fire was not accidental. It was a book burning.

TWO

Two weeks after the fire, Liberty drove her blue Subaru from the warehouse to the old academy to meet Harold and the architect he’d hired for the renovation. Her nostrils still felt coated with soot, but last night’s rain had washed most of the ash from trees and bushes.

She parked in front of the iron gate that held in overgrown dogwoods. From the sidewalk, all she could see of the entrance was its stone façade with some kind of dark statue near the door. Forcing open the rusty gate, she stepped through, climbed the leaf-strewn stairs, and looked up at moss-encrusted letters above the portal that proclaimed Shipsfeather Athenaeum and Academy.

On the right side of the entrance, a stone sculpture of a couchant black Anubis stared down at her, at least eight feet long and five feet high to the tip of its pointy ears. Examining the pedestal, she made out the chiseled word LOYALTY. From what she remembered of Egyptian history, Anubis, Embalmer and Ruler of the Underworld, symbolized rebirth. How appropriate. This building was about to be reborn.

Although the grand entrance reminded her of the New York Public Library, in place of the friendly lions Fortitude and Patience, the Egyptian God of the Dead would greet Shipsfeather’s patrons. On the left side of the door sat a second concrete pedestal incised VALOR, as if another beast had once stood there but had somehow bounded off.

Enough fantasizing. This was nothing more than an old building, not a magic castle or a school for wizards. And if it were going to become a modern library, she had work to do.

She stepped closer to the entrance and noticed jackal-headed gods carved in relief on the huge double doors. The Egyptian Renaissance style felt somehow both ominous and appropriate.

Liberty took out the old fashioned key Harold had given her and unlocked the massive doors. She pushed inside and coughed as the odor of dust, mildew, and Dewey-knew-what engulfed her.

She brushed away curtains of spider webs, stepped between marble columns onto the marble-floored rotunda, and looked up. Sunlight filtered down from the dome through decades of dust and cobwebs. The Shipsfeather Academy was magnificent—or had been. She smiled for the first time since the fire.

Maneuvering around a broken red velvet chair, she passed through an archway into a two-story-high bookshelf-lined reading room. She stroked a film of dust from a carved table and imagined it polished to a rich glow. Scraping one foot across the dirty floor, she revealed wide oak boards, too beautiful to hide with carpet.

With every step the building fascinated her more. Statues draped in cobwebs so thick they looked as heavy as sheets filled corners. The closest figure appeared to be a wolf or large dog, so dirty she couldn’t tell if it were wood, marble, or bronze, yet the fine details resembled museum quality art.

Twelve-foot-high windows filtered light like a scrim onto a stage. Liberty tugged at one dirt-fogged casement until it creaked opened. She took out her notepad and began a list. Cleaning the windows and glass dome would bring in enough light to see what could be salvaged. The entire building needed to be rewired. This shelf-lined room had clearly been the academy’s library. Green-shaded reading lamps still adorned solid oak tables. It would be a travesty if Harold hired some low-bid crew to rip out this beautiful old woodwork and demolish the stained glass dome.

Circling the rotunda Liberty found stairs to a lower level and stopped to examine a wall plaque. She rubbed a small spot on what appeared to be the old school’s crest. A gleam of gold shone through. Across the top, old-fashioned letters spelled out Shipsfeather. Like an archaeologist uncovering ancient history, she kept rubbing and revealed the word Athenaeum. She was sure this building held clues to the town’s beginnings.

Clearly the raised design was an open book. Scrubbing, the outline of a palm print appeared. She moved on to the opposite page and revealed a paw print. She’d never seen anything like it. The crest looked ancient, mystical, and mysterious.

Descending the curved staircase she reached a level that must have housed the academy offices. She peeked into rooms that would serve well for library offices, workrooms, and storage.

One door was closed. Inside she found, clean office lacking the musky stench of the rest of the building. A dust-free carved oak desk and leather chair faced a large clean window. An English landscape painting hung on the wall behind the desk. The elegant office seemed to be waiting for her.

Her hands were filthy and her dress was a grubby mess, but she couldn’t stop exploring. Feeling like Alice wandering down the rabbit hole, she walked to a door that might be a stairway, but opened into a janitor’s closet. Long unused mops, disintegrating brooms, and buckets hung on the walls, but the floor was free of dirt and debris. An unremarkable door formed the back wall. She pulled. She pushed but it did not budge. She kicked against the bottom and a panel like a doggy door swung open.

Liberty stood back and assessed the three-foot-high opening. Looking down at her brown dress, which couldn’t get much dirtier, she knelt, and like Alice, crawled through to Wonderland.

On the other side, she straightened and peered down a flight of stairs to a dim hallway below. Exploring deserted buildings alone was not smart. Floors might be unsound. Ceilings unstable. Using the excuse that she needed to know if the lower floor might be useful for stacks and storage, she started her descent, one step at a time. At the bottom, she looked up and down a clean lighted hallway. An overhead sign pointed to Library.

Around the corner in the direction of the Library, she heard footsteps. Flattening herself against the wall, she waited as the even shuffling gait came closer. A vision of a vicious feral animal flashed into her mind.

A huge shadow cast an ominous shape on the wall. Then a furry white head appeared, followed by the fluffy body of…a dog. An Old English Sheepdog. As beautiful as the photo in the American Kennel Club’s Complete Dog Book. She leaned against the wall and exhaled. How had a dog gotten into the basement of this abandoned building?

The dog looked powerful under all that hair. She was alone without protection, not even a can of spray or a dog biscuit.

The gray and white Sheepdog trotted to her, barked one short echoing greeting, and sat, nose as high as her waist, in front of her, mouth open, exposing a pink tongue.

Hi, baby. She bent and hesitantly stroked the dog’s head, gently moving long hair from a dark chocolate eye, rimmed as if a cosmetologist had applied ebony eyeliner. The dog’s velvet muzzle nuzzled her hand, his huge black nose damp and cool.

Seeing

Reviews for Released

[Janet L Kostielney · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Loved it. Can't wait to read rest of
series. Books and dogs. 2 of my favorite parts of life!!! Will seek out " the pharoh and the..."