Strange Dreams (Cambio Springs Shifters Anthology) - Signed Paperback

In the desert town of Cambio Springs, the water is cool, the summers sizzle, and all the residents wear fur, feathers, or snakeskin on full moon nights. In a world of cookie-cutter shifter romance, head to the desert for something different.

In “Long Ride Home,” Jena Crowe escaped the Springs ten years ago. Now, she’s heading home with two boys to start a new life. With her husband’s ghost keeping her company on the road, Jena will learn that moving back and moving backward aren’t necessarily the same thing, and sometimes the places you try to escape are exactly where you need to fall.

In “Five Mornings,” Alex McCann and Teodora ‘Ted’ Vasquez never had a simple relationship… but you couldn’t call it a boring one either. Five mornings in their past shape who they will become to each other. To their families. And to the mysterious town they call home.

In Stings & Arrows, Sean Quinn escaped Cambio Springs with nothing but the clothes on his back, fleeing from a scorned clan, an unearned reputation, and the weight of family history. Wandering the world as a travel photographer suited him, until he met one fellow wanderer who would upset everything he thought about his future.

Strange Dreams is an anthology of two previously published short stories, “Long Ride Home” and “Five Mornings,” with an all new prequel novella, Slings and Arrows, by ten-time USA Today bestseller, Elizabeth Hunter, author of the Cambio Springs series and the Elemental Mysteries.“I want you to tell me before I die.”

The old woman’s eyes were bright with fever, but her grip was strong as she held the immortal’s hand. Tenzin gently uncurled the fingers from around her palm before she dipped the cloth back in the scented water, the aroma of eucalyptus suffusing the room in her sire’s house where Nima lay. 

“There’s time,” she said softly.

“No. There isn’t.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Tenzin brushed the white hair from Nima’s forehead, remembering when the hair had been shining black and the forehead smooth. Nima had always been proud of her fair skin. Had teased Tenzin that following her into the darkness had kept her young. It wasn’t true, of course. Nima had been her human companion for over seventy years. She’d sheltered Tenzin and protected her during the sunlight hours, even though the immortal no longer needed to sleep. It was Nima who had dealt with the humans. Nima who had fed her rare thirst. “Always so dramatic,” Tenzin said again, stretching out next to the old woman on the bed, pressing Nima’s forehead against her cool cheek. It burned. 

Her body fought to live even as her life drifted away. Nima was dying. Tenzin knew it. She’d known this day would come. It always came. But for the first time in a thousand years, the loss angered her. 

Nima whispered, “I’m sor—”

“Don’t apologize again. We’re past that now.”

“Please tell me.”

“Why?” Her heart ached. Of all the stories that Tenzin could tell her, the fantastical tales she could spin, why did her friend ask this of her? Tenzin could tell her about the rise of the pyramids and how the moonlight shone off the snow that topped the Holy Mountain. She’d watched the Great Wall being built and hovered silently over a stage in Vienna as Mozart played. “Let me tell you a beautiful story.” 

“I don’t want that. I want your story.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

Tenzin tried not to sigh in frustration. “Why do you ask this of me?”

“Why do you hold it back?”

Tenzin’s brow furrowed. “I am no longer that girl.”

“I know you’re not.”

“It was thousands of years ago. I barely remember her.”

“Don’t lie to me now,” Nima said, her voice stronger. “Not now.”

They waited in silence as the soft voices of her father’s servants passed in the hall. 

“Why do you want this burden?” Tenzin whispered. “It is not a good story.”

“I want it because it is not a good story.”

“Human, why do you search for meaning in pain? There is no meaning in pain. It is. You endure it. That is all.” 

“I am dying, Tenzin. Give this to me. Let me know you as you were.” Nima’s voice fell soft as she leaned her head on Tenzin’s shoulder. “Give me this burden, and I will take it from you. Not all of it. But some. Give it to me, and I will take it with me when I go. Then, there will be just a little less darkness for you.” 

“I am darkness.”

“You were.” Nima took a deep, rattling breath. “But I see light for you now. Give this to me, so there is a little more.” 

There was no light for her—she knew that—because Tenzin loved the darkness. But that, she would never tell Nima. Let the woman believe there was some kind of happiness for her to come. If that would ease her pain, Tenzin would give her that. 

“Are you sure you want my story?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I will tell you. But you must promise to stay awake, my Nima, so the nightmares do not come until I am finished. And when they do come, I will wake you, so you will see that nothing is real. Do you understand?” 

“Tell me. And tell me the truth.”

Tenzin thought for a moment, then said, “I will tell you, and you will decide if it is the truth.” 

Nima took another deep breath and said, “Tell me a story.”

She stared into the rafters of her sire’s house on Penglai, and a dragon stared back at her, surrounded by clouds and holding a pearl in his mouth. His gold eyes glistened in the low lamplight and, as she stared…

Tenzin heard the sound of cold wind as it swept over Northern plains. 

The sound of the night breeze shaking the trees. 

The low bleating of goats and a child’s laugh. 

“A long time ago,” she began, “there was a girl…”