Wild Men of Alaska 03 - Dreamweaver

let Tern inside the bookstore. They had an hour before anyone would be reporting to work, and before the store was scheduled to open.
    “I stopped and picked up cinnamon rolls from Bun on the Run.” Tern held up a bag. “Not that the café food isn’t great, but I’m sure you get tired of it.”
    “Bless you.” Gemma relocked the door and led the way to a little bistro table in the back of the café. If people saw them from the large plate-glass windows, there would be knocking and begging for her to open early. Coffee goers were a wired group, as she was learning herself. Never had she been this agitated. When this “situation” was over with, and she cut back on her consumption, the caffeine withdrawals were bound to be legendary.
    But that wasn’t today, and she needed the hit, feeling more zombie than human. Gemma veered toward the café to pour mountainous cups of coffee, adding a few too many shots of espresso to hers. Getting through today was going to be an experience.
    “So, tell me what happened last night? You didn’t sleep, did you?”
    Gemma placed their coffees down on the table and sat. “Uh... some.” Not that it was enough sleep to count since she’d been participating in other activities at the time.
    “Did your Dreamweaver visit?”
    “Yes.”
    “Gemma!”
    “I tried to stay awake. I really did, but after two in the morning, I gave it up.” Thinking she was crazy to be afraid of going to sleep. Boy, had she been proved wrong.
    “So what happened?”
    Gemma’s face heated. “Okay, first off—I feel nuts for talking about this—but, Tern, you have to understand. He is really sexy and really adept at seduction.”
    “How far? Was there inter—“
    “No.” But it had been close. So close.
    “Did you get his name?”
    “No.” What did Tern think of her? She sounded so easy to her own ears. Some random guy, spirit, or whatever, shows up and puts the moves on her, and she just lays there and takes it. Participates, even.
    “Gemma, if he shows up again you have to get his name. There is power in a name.”
    She’d tried, hadn’t she? It was all a bit fuzzy in the light of day. “Okay, if I see him again, I’ll get his name.”
    “Good. I talked to Gage. He’s in Poker Flats with all his fellow cronies from around the world. They haven’t seen solar displays like this since the 1960’s. It’s like geekville out there. While he doesn’t believe in all this Dreamweaver stuff—scientist—” she shrugged “—he did say that the intense solar flares are interfering with radio transmissions and satellites. He’s going to keep me updated with the forecast.” Tern reached over and laid her hand over Gemma’s, her eyes solemn. “He also said it’s going to get more extreme in the next few days based on the sun’s flares in the last twelve hours. The most recent flares from the sun are like nuclear bombs.”
    Great. Gemma peered into the black liquid of her cup. If that was the case, she’d need something stronger than coffee to stay awake.
    “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in three weeks. And last night, might as well count as no sleep. I’d just dropped off when he was there. In fact—” she shook her head “—no never mind.”
    “Tell me. The littlest thing could give us a clue on how to stop him.”
    Gemma thought about it, realizing that Tern wasn’t going to think she was crazier. She leaned in even though she knew they were alone and no one could overhear them. “Before I fell asleep, I could have sworn I heard him.”
    “While you were awake?”
    “Yes, and later when we were, you know, we talked.”
    “Like communicated in your dream?”
    “No, actually talked. He could read my thoughts though, come to think of it. But I talked to him. I heard him.”
    “Hmm.”
    “What does that mean?” She sat back in her chair.
    “I think we need to talk to your mother.”
    “No. Tern, you don’t understand. Mom is barely there. This will send her right over into that other world of hers and there won’t be enough medication to bring her back.”
    Tern seemed to shelf that argument for another time. “How did you stop, you know, both of you? Did the alarm clock go off like last time?”
    “No, I was able to call a halt.”
    “How?”
    “You know how I said we could talk? Well, he’s enough of a man—Dreamweaver or not—to step in it. He called me babe.”
    “Babe?” Tern narrowed her eyes. “He called you babe?”
    “Yeah, can