Wild Men of Alaska 03 - Dreamweaver

he’d moved to town six months ago. “But there wasn’t any spark.”
    “No, spark with Cub Iverson? My goldfish lights up when he’s in the room. The man was made for worshiping.”
    “Don’t let Gage hear you talk like that.”
    “Just because I’m married doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate art when I see it. So why no spark? Did he kiss you?”
    “Yeah.” Gemma sighed. “It was nice but not as nice as my Dreamweaver’s.”
    Tern’s smile fell, and she became very still. “What did you just call him?”
    “Dreamweaver.” A shiver skittered across her skin. “Why?”
    “Pull up the weather report for the last three weeks.” Tern pointed to Gemma’s laptop. “Come on. Do it.”
    Gemma did as Tern instructed while Tern came around the desk to see the results. They quickly scanned through the past weather reports for the last month. Fairbanks had actually fared well for March. Other than the snow storm Sunday night, they’d had cold but clear weather and amazing Aurora Borealis displays due to the record solar flares.
    “I don’t want you to freak out with what I’m about to say,” Tern said, slowly retaking her seat.
    “You’re already freaking me out.”
    “Well, hold onto something then. Your Dreamweaver is using the Northern Lights as a conduit to travel between the astral planes. If you aren’t careful, he’ll snatch your spirit and take you back with him. You need protection.”
    “Really? You’d think having astral sex would be the ultimate solution for having unprotected sex. You can’t get pregnant or catch anything.”
    “Don’t joke about this. There is so much you can lose.” Tern tightened her lips. “What’s the forecast for the Aurora tonight?”
    Gemma glanced back to her computer screen. “Intense.”
    “Don’t go to sleep. Promise me.” Tern waited until Gemma promised. “Okay, you wire yourself with caffeine. I’ll talk to Gage.”
    “Gage? Tern, no.” Gemma rose out of her chair as Tern stood and hurriedly slid her coat back on. “I don’t want anyone else knowing about this.”
    “We’re going to need his help. He works for the Geophysical Institute, remember. He’s an Aurora genius. We need to know what we’re up against if this ‘thing’ is using the Northern Lights as a stream into our world.”
    “This sounds like Star Trek,” Gemma muttered rushing to catch up with Tern as she exited the office onto the book floor.
    “Until I get back with you, it wouldn’t hurt to find out what Siri knows. She might have some other ways of protecting you.”
    “I can’t talk to my mother about this.” She’d wished now she hadn’t talked to Tern.
    Tern stopped and faced her. “Your soul is at risk. Talk to her. And no sleep.” She held up her finger when Gemma went to interrupt. “No naps either.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding?”
    “The Aurora is out there even during the day. We humans can only see them at night.” Tern took Gemma by the arm and steered her toward the café. A few tables were taken by regulars who liked to hear Siri’s readings. Siri was currently deep in the middle of another reading for Mrs. Halverson who didn’t miss a week without a read.
    “Amie, large coffee with a double shot of espresso for Gemma,” Tern ordered. “I want you to make sure she drinks enough of those to make her twitchy.”
    Amie, paler than when Gemma had left her, pointed at Mrs. Halverson. “Did you see Mrs. Halverson’s cockroach?”
    Gemma followed Amie’s shaky finger. There on Mrs. Halverson’s pink lapel jacket was pinned a huge emerald cockroach.
    Siri stood, holding the moon card in her hand for Gemma to see. “Dreamweaver,” she whispered.

Chapter Four

    Gemma’s eyelids closed and then blinked open. It was two in the morning. The television was playing a marathon of Star Trek the Next Generation at top volume. She’d turned the heat down, and the inside temperature of her house was currently sixty-five degrees. She was freezing and tired, and almost to the point where she didn’t care anymore if her Dreamweaver visited.
    At least he’d keep her warm.
    She had to be careful that the temperature in the house didn’t drop enough that her water pipes were in danger. That was taking this astral stuff too far.
    Who was she kidding? It had already gone too far. She’d let a bunch of people scare her with nonsense. This was ridiculous. Dreamweavers didn’t exist. There was no real proof. But then if spirits were sexually