The Haunted Librarian

by Auralee Wallace

Genres: Fantasy; Humorous Fantasy; Ghost; General Fiction

Synopsis

A lonely librarian finds love, friends, and a few ghosts between the shelves in this cozy, paranormal tale from beloved bestselling author Auralee Wallace.

It’s a dark and stormy night…and Amelia Bates is caught in the rain. Life hasn’t always been kind to her, and being a ghostseer certainly doesn’t make things any easier.

Glowing warmly through the autumnal downpour is her safest haven: the library. Amelia, the newly hired librarian, has always relished the comfort of curling up with a novel, vastly preferring it to the company of humans (alive or ghostly).

But Amelia is shocked to discover the building is full of more than quiet stories and warm cups of tea. There are curious, talkative patrons, a shy, bespectacled head librarian who makes her heart skip a beat, and three quirky spirits causing paranormal havoc that endangers the future of the library.

To help the ghosts and save the building, Amelia will have to gather all her bravery and wits, because learning to trust others might just be the first step to a happily ever after she only thought was possible in books.

Release date: October 6, 2026

Publisher: Ace

Print pages: 368

Sample

1

The only thing that you absolutely have to know
is the location of the library.

-Albert Einstein, attributed

For as long as Amelia Bates could remember, she wanted only one thing from life: to be a librarian.

Libraries had always been her natural habitat. Aside from being surrounded by the intoxicating vanilla scent of decomposing lignin and the whispers of long-dead authors, Amelia relished knowing that contained within those bookish walls were so many lives to be lived! Lives filled with romance, excitement, and adventure. The thought alone was thrilling, especially for someone like her, who would never be fortunate enough to experience much of anything due to an extremely rare condition that made her, well, not normal.

But she had come to peace with all that a long time ago.

In light of this love, it perhaps wasn't all that surprising that by the time Amelia was eleven, she had read all of Jane Austen and Murasaki Shikibu; the complete works of the Brontës by twelve; and most of Mirza Ghalib and Charles Dickens by thirteen. Despite her best efforts, Bleak House had stretched into her fourteenth year.

After that, her pace really picked up.

What did she need from the rest of the world when there were entire universes waiting for her in libraries? No, forget acquiring possessions or piling up great achievements. Never mind traveling or learning new hobbies. All Amelia Bates needed to achieve her happily ever after was a quiet life wandering through dusty shelves laden with books.

Given all this, it was actually quite mind-boggling that she was about to be late for an unexpected, though very welcome, job interview at her dream library.

A chilling blast of wind hit Amelia as she rushed down the steps of her new apartment above the fish shop on the outskirts of a small village not too far from Cavendish, Prince Edward Island. The early warm fall weather had hung on for as long as it could, but now the cold, dark end of autumn had them in its grip. She grunted lowly with disgust. Amelia did not like fall-early or late. One could even say she hated it. Somehow its presence always seemed to be laughing at her. Like right now, as she was peering down at her watch, struggling to see its face in the deepening gloom, she could almost hear autumn cackling gleefully at the seconds ticking past.

She had to hurry.

Clutching the hood of her jacket to her throat, Amelia rushed for the boardwalk on the other side of the shop only to be greeted by the sight of giant bruising clouds tumbling over a dark ruffled sea. No! Those clouds weren't supposed to be there! Amelia checked herself over as though she might find an umbrella hidden on her person as another gust of wind spattered raindrops over the lenses of her glasses. The forecast had said it would be clear!

Silly meteorologists, they clearly hadn't factored Amelia's job interview into their predictions. Of course there would be a sudden storm. Actually, no. There was no escaping it. She was going to be late, and she had no one to blame but herself.

Inconceivable.

Amelia had never wanted so badly to be on time for anything in her life, and she knew exactly how long it took to get to the library because she had practiced the route seven times. But as was the case with all well-laid plans, things had gone awry. Her wardrobe, in this instance. She had intended to leave ten minutes early, and had in fact been all ready to go, but just as she was about to depart, she realized the perfect outfit she'd selected suddenly didn't seem so perfect. Three times she had changed from her twill skirt to herringbone pants, then back again, and she still wasn't sure if she'd made the right choice. How quickly those ten minutes had disappeared, and now with the wind, she'd be lucky if she made it on time for her interview, because with every step she took forward, the storm was pushing her back by half.

Suddenly, the sole of her boot slipped over the slick wood of the boardwalk. Amelia jerked to remain upright, barely managing to stay on her feet. Once she had her balance, she placed her hand on her chest. That had been close, but thankfully no harm had been-

Snap!

Metal slapped painfully against the nape of Amelia's neck. Her hair clip! The sudden jerk had caused it to explode. Masses of curls swelled inside the hood of her jacket, allowing the wind to catch hold and push it back. Amelia's hair swirled as she struggled to yank the hood down over her head once more. This was terrible. Wild and wind-tossed was not the professional look she was going for, and things were only going to get worse the longer she was out here. Maybe if she stayed extra light on her feet, she could run . . . except she couldn't run because there was somebody in her way.

Two somebodies, actually, glowing in the dim light.

Amelia squinted through her rain-spattered glasses, making out the iridescent couple holding hands up ahead as yet another blast of wind shook her balance. Of course they'd be here. They traversed the boardwalk every night as far as Amelia could tell, always wearing cloaks, always carrying lanterns. Always looking so in love.

This was the last thing Amelia needed. She was in a hurry, and they were gliding along in front of her without a care in the world. And it wasn't as though she could go around them. If she did, they'd notice, and she couldn't risk stirring up that kind of trouble.

She had to remember the rules.

Amelia switched from her light hurried steps to determined slapping footfalls on the boardwalk, hoping the couple would hear her gaining on them and clear a path. As she approached, she caught the woman's voice carried on the wind. "It is another beautiful night, my love."

Beautiful? Amelia scoffed internally.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you," the man replied, and kissed his partner's hand. "But can you feel it?"

The woman nodded, and they both looked off to the sleepy fishing village glinting dully in the storm.

"It is a most disturbing sensation," she said. "I fear for those who fall within its grasp."

Disturbing sensation? Fearful grasp? The village looked perfectly fine. What were they talking about? And more importantly, why weren't they getting out of her way?

There was no other choice. Amelia was just going to have to walk right through them. She had to . . . but she hated doing that! Maybe if she could get their attention, they'd move. Amelia coughed, then quickly averted her gaze. Rule one: Don't look at them. Out of the corner of her vision, Amelia caught the man's head turn.

"Ah! The storm has routed the pumpkin-haired fish wench."

Amelia's eyes widened. Thankfully, her head was still turned. Pumpkin-haired fish wench?! Admittedly, her hair was red, and yes, she did now live in an apartment above a fish shop, but-

Keep calm and carry on, Amelia.

The rational side of her brain-which she referred to as Rational Amelia-was right. She didn't have time for this.

The pair slowed, broke hands, and stepped to either side of the path. Amelia turned her best blank stare forward and kept on at her steady pace. At least they were getting out of the way, but as she reached the point between the two, her boot slipped again, sending her knee crashing to the boardwalk and her foot sliding into the woman's cloak. A deep cold ran up Amelia's calf.

The woman gasped. "Heavens, girl, are you sound?"

Rule two: Do not listen to them.

If only she had been following that rule when the pumpkin-haired fish wench comment had occurred. But rule number two had always been of the easier-said-than-done variety. And was she all right? Amelia was moving to push herself up when she saw the damage that had been done through her tangled masses of hair. NO! Her woolen tights. The woolen tights that she'd bought solely for this job interview because they looked so librarian! Now a brown spiderweb covered her knee. The fates had spoken. She should have worn the pants.

The man chuckled. "She is well, my tender heart. Not a drop of blood."

She was not well! Did he not see her tights?

"I fear her stockings are ruined," the woman observed.

Thank you!

"And her hair is lovely," she added.

Also thank you.

"By God, there's enough of it," the man replied. "An entire ship could be lost in those tresses."

What?! What did that even mean? It didn't matter. They did not matter. Amelia pushed herself up to her feet, found her balance, yanked her hood back down, and lurched onward in quick steps.

"You are terrible, my dear," she heard the woman say behind her. "She's a fine-looking young thing. Quite lovely."

"Ah, but I see only you," the man answered. "For your beauty bewitched me the moment . . ."

Mercifully, the rest of the statement was swept away in the bitter wind.

Amelia picked up her pace once again to a light but still dangerous jog. What was the worst that could happen? She wrecked the other knee? Just then her step faltered. Why? Why did she have to put that sort of thing out into the universe?

Thankfully, she was almost there.

Amelia spotted the branch in the boardwalk that led to the village's main street. She made the turn, snatching blurry glimpses of the hamlet in the dim light. By day, the collection of turquoise, pink, and yellow cottages felt quaint, cheerful, but now that night had fallen, the atmosphere had shifted. The street's potted chrysanthemums appeared gray and spiky in the gloom and the ornamental fishing nets draped over the salt-worn buildings greedy and grasping, as though ready to ensnare anyone who dare pass by. Most unsettling, though, was the season's final scarecrow affixed to a streetlamp. Ordinarily it was quite welcoming, but in the murky shadows of the sudden storm, its warm smile had curved into a sly grin.

Focus, Amelia.

A gust of wind shook her balance. Yes, focus. Here she was getting swept up in silly flights of fancy when she should be using this walk to mentally rehearse her answers for her job interview.

Amelia raced down the sidewalk that led to the far end of the village and the access road that would take her up to her destination atop the small seaside cliff. When she made it to the foot of the cobblestone drive, she peered up the slope, and her heart jumped at the sight of the building towering against the near-black sky.

The library.

The building was constructed in 1873-as was indicated on the engraved copper plaque beside the door-and had originally been a courthouse, replete with jail cells, but it had served many purposes since that time. It was a beautiful three-story redbrick structure with a mansard roof that was lined with black iron railings that poked up at the clouds. Over the last few days, Amelia had relished the sight of the library on more than a few occasions, but tonight, seeing its roman arched windows glowing with buttery light, she couldn't help but think it had never looked more welcoming.

Unfortunately, the building also had a clock right beneath its central cupola.

Its hands nearly made a straight line from the twelve to the six. Nearly. She was five minutes late. It was such a small parcel of time, but she could practically hear a death knell, clanging away any hope she had of getting this job.

When the email from the library had arrived in her inbox, she couldn't have been more surprised. Yes, she had recently graduated with an MLS degree, and she had given her contact information to the alumni association, but she had never expected to receive a nighttime job posting with a personalized invitation to apply. Not from this library. Amelia had grown up in Charlottetown, but it was famous province-wide. In total, Prince Edward Island had twenty-five public library branches, a university library, a few legislative and specialized research centers, and, of course, a multitude of school libraries, but this wondrous place had evolved outside all those clear delineations. It was the kind of library librarians dreamed about- large, historic, and completely unexpected in a small village. It was also rumored to hold a trove of uncatalogued diaries, wartime letters, maps, newspapers, and rare books of untold historical value.

Amelia could only hope there weren't too many applicants. While the library was large, the location was remote. That certainly hadn't discouraged her though. The night the posting arrived, she booked the room above the fish shop online, sight unseen. The host insisted on a month, which was more than Amelia wanted, given she did not yet in fact have the job and it would require all her meager savings, but there weren't many listings, and the price was incredibly reasonable, so she had gone ahead. Once she arrived, she realized the reasonable price was likely a reflection of the very unreasonable smell.

Amelia sped past the small parking lot toward the steps of the front entrance. As she neared, a voice called out, "You don't want to go in there, ducky."

Seriously? More gho-

Don't even think the word.

Yes, even the word put Amelia in a bad mood.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a man in a fisherman's cap and heavy overcoat standing by a gnarled oak tree. His face floated aglow in the smoke of his pipe, its spicy scent threading the wind. Amelia strode past, keeping her pace.

And he was wrong. She very much did want to go in.

"I'm warning ya. Something foul has been churned up from deep inside those walls."

Amelia rolled her eyes inwardly. Why did they always speak to people when they knew an answer would never come? Boredom probably. The sound of rainwater rushing through the drainpipe anchored to the building greeted Amelia as she navigated over the last of the slippery cobblestones. She grabbed the railing of the front steps and then climbed her way up to the heavy wooden door. When she lifted her head, all she could see was the sign.

CLOSED.

Don't panic. The sign had to be for the general public, not for her, a prospective employee. She really wasn't that late.

Amelia almost reached for the door handle, but then stopped, smoothing her hair back from her face with her palms and then grabbing the bulk of it with both hands. As she arched, she felt her hair clip slide underneath her sweater and travel down her back, between her shoulder blades, until it caught on her bra. Marvelous. Now her hair would not only be pumpkin colored but pumpkin shaped. She yanked her hood roughly over her head again. Maybe she could leave her jacket on for the interview . . . because that wouldn't be the least bit strange.