TERRY R. BACON
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THE SONNY MARSHALL SERIES
STORM DAMAGE

Musician and reluctant hero Sonny Marshall faces a new storm brewing in San Francisco. A wave of horrific, random violence sweeps the city, turning ordinary citizens into savage killers. The cause: a deadly designer drug called Zombie. At the same time, another drug, Rapture, promises a blissful escape that ends in a catatonic state—a fate that befalls Sonny’s own bandmate. With detective Kat Hastings, Sonny hunts for the ghost-like chemist behind the chaos, a brilliant and ruthless mastermind playing God. They must stop him before his storm of engineered madness consumes the city entirely.
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STORM DAMAGE
I called Jaycee and asked about the party he and Eric went to. Jaycee gave me an address and said the woman who lived there was Eric’s friend, a Goth princess who called herself Arachne. I had time before our rehearsal, so I drove to the address in Ashbury Heights. It was a three-story dark gray row house with a single-car garage on the lower level of a street that angled sharply downhill. On the floor above the garage was a shop named Olympia Tapestry. Displayed behind a broad picture window were three brightly colored tapestries. Crystals were suspended from the ceiling above them, and a sign in the window said that horoscope readings were available within. An ornate Zodiac was carved into the door.
After I knocked, the door opened just a crack, and a woman said, “We’re not open.”
“I’d like to speak to Arachne,” I said.
The door opened a little wider, and I saw a pretty, slender woman, maybe 25, with long black hair. She had pale skin and black bangs hanging just below artfully crafted eyebrows. She wore black lipstick, black eyeshadow, and mascara, which made her eyes luminescent on pearly skin. She reminded me of Geishas with their painted faces.
REVIEWS
STORM WARNING

Sonny Marshall, a gifted saxophonist with a past haunted by violence, lives his life between soulful nights on stage and the quiet discipline of martial arts. But when a friend’s chance sighting reopens the cold case of a girl kidnapped seven years ago, Sonny is drawn into a darkness that melody can’t touch. His unofficial investigation pulls him from the neon glow of jazz clubs into a sinister underworld of child exploitation and ruthless criminals. With the police investigation stalled, Sonny must rely on his own code of justice, where the lines between right and wrong blur into the shadows.
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THE CERULEAN ARK SERIES
THE CERULEAN ARK

For high school senior Bradley Adamsson, life is already a struggle against a debilitating illness and a grim diagnosis. But his world is turned upside down when a classmate brings him a strange, metallic artifact unearthed in a remote mountain cave. The object, ancient and otherworldly, holds secrets far beyond human comprehension. It leads Bradley to a discovery that will rewrite history and challenge everything he knows about the universe—and his own destiny. This isn’t just a relic; it’s a key. But what door will it unlock, and can he handle the truth that lies beyond?
CERULEAN ARK
The meteorite struck in a rugged, remote area of the Angeles National Forest east of Pasadena, scaring the living hell out of ten million residents of Los Angeles County. Witnesses said it streaked straight down like lightning, causing an instant flash of fire from the cloudless blue to the dark green forest in the San Gabriel Mountains. A massive explosion followed—shredded trees, rocks, and dirt blown a quarter mile from the impact site. A roiling, brown cloud rose a thousand feet and mushroomed ominously while a thunderous, rolling boom, louder than a hundred jet engines, peeled open the sky and left it shuddering. Thank God it hadn’t struck a populated area, people cried. Thousands could have been killed. As it was, windows shattered as far as twelve miles away, the sonic boom rupturing the eardrums of people outdoors nearest the point of impact. The GPS system failed countywide during the event but recovered as the mushroom cloud rose.
Within six miles of the strike, products on supermarket and retail store shelves shimmied like drunken dancers onto the floor. Loose objects made of iron, nickel, or ferromagnetic alloys zipped toward the impact zone, lifting off desks, tables, and counters. Within two miles of the strike, they crashed through windows and zoomed toward the site only to drop seconds later as though they’d run out of gas. Vehicles on Interstates 210 and 15 careened into each other, freaked-out drivers terrified that an earthquake or nuclear attack had occurred. Los Angeles County deputies responded quickly, but Sheriff Federico Veracruz called for assistance from state troopers and local police to handle more than five hundred accidents on freeways and streets throughout the county. Few life-threatening injuries occurred in the multiple car pileups, but a dozen county residents suffered heart attacks, and area hospitals and urgent care facilities were overwhelmed with glass cuts, abrasions, broken bones, and thousands of rattled residents demanding Xanax as panic reigned.