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 fueled by 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 strikes close to home when it befalls Sonny’s own bandmate. As the city teeters on the brink, the official investigation stalls, leaving a trail of baffled authorities and terrified citizens.
With chaos mounting, Sonny partners with tough-as-nails detective Kat Hastings to hunt for the ghost-like chemist behind the madness. They pursue a brilliant and ruthless mastermind playing God with twisted chemical experiments, a phantom who stays one step ahead, leaving a trail of death and despair. Their investigation plunges them into the city’s dark underbelly, forcing them to navigate a treacherous world of street gangs and shadowy players. As the body count rises, Sonny and Kat must race against time to stop him before his storm of engineered violence consumes San Francisco entirely, proving that the deepest darkness can be found in a simple pill.
Reviews
“Terry Bacon’s Storm Damage is a sophisticated mystery that immediately elevates itself beyond the standard thriller. The core strength lies not in the plot twists but in the compelling psychological depth of Sonny Marshall. The novel brilliantly uses Sonny’s background in martial arts and, more uniquely, his passion for blues and jazz, to create a powerful thematic filter for his personal quest for justice. This is a story about reactive heroism—the emotional necessity of action against injustice—and the complex moral lines that blur. The prose has excellent pacing, driving the narrative with a palpable tension. Readers who appreciate a protagonist whose internal life is as intricate as the external conflict will find this a highly rewarding experience. If you value complex character motivation over simple action, this is a fine, compelling read. Highly recommended!”
Mong CJ – Amazon Review
“Storm Damage by Terry R. Bacon is such a thrilling page turner that incorporates so many intriguing complexities and plot twists! I had no idea where this mystery was headed and could not initially solve the case, which was slightly maddening in a good way.”
KP – Amazon Review
“With thick imagery that places you in the seedy underbelly of a West Coast Mystery, Bacon is adept at weaving a story rife with intrigue and life.”
Forrest – Amazon Review
“I don’t often go for mystery novels, but Storm Damage hooked me. The characters are all interesting and colorful. The villain and the villain’s chief weapon are both fascinating and unique. Aside from being enthralled by the wide range of brilliantly formulated characters, I was also captivated by the locations, the plot twists, and Terry Bacon’s brilliant writing style. Even if you don’t love a good mystery, pick this one up, and it might change your mind.”
Caleb Willis – Amazon Review
“Terry Bacon delivers a fast-paced and well-written thriller in Storm Damage. What stood out to me the most is the energy of the writing—tight dialogue, crisp action scenes, and a protagonist who feels grounded and human. Sonny Marshall isn’t your typical action hero, and Bacon does a good job balancing toughness with vulnerability. The novel’s pacing keeps the tension high without feeling rushed, and the author’s attention to setting adds realness.”
Thousand_Yellow_Daisies – Amazon Review
Excerpt
Chapter 15
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. I couldn’t see much of her below her face, but in my peripheral vision, I glimpsed a lot of skin and got the impression that she was nude.
“You’re a Gemini,” she said, regarding me with curious eyes. “Romance will blossom for you tonight.”
“I hope so,” I replied, bringing a smile to her black lips. I could smell fragrant candle smoke in the room behind her. As she looked me over, she raised a hand to her chin and traced a line down her throat with one finger.
“What do you want with Arachne?”
“You hosted a party here several weeks ago.”
“Arachne has many parties.”
“A mutual friend attended this one. Eric Young.”
Her eyes dropped for a long moment. I thought she might be examining my shoes. “How is Eric?”
“Not well.”
She pinched her nose. “It smells like a fireplace out here. Come inside,” she said. She opened the door and turned away from me. She wasn’t nude, but everything she wore was black—a tiny lace camisole, panties and a garter, thigh-high stockings, and long boots with thick soles and five-inch heels.
“I can wait if you want to get dressed.”
She gave me a come-on smile and said, “I am dressed.”
I tried not to dwell on it. “I’m an Aries, by the way.”
She looked curiously at me and said, “You will put a lot of energy into your relationships today. You may prefer to work alone, but a new relationship you form today could be enduring.”
I wondered if she was referring to herself. If so, it was one of the more inventive pick-up lines I’d ever heard.
“Don’t be afraid to try new things,” she continued.
Her showroom was filled with tapestries in various designs and motifs, and in every corner of the ceiling, there were large spider webs made of spun glass. I gazed at the tapestries. They looked beautifully woven, with rich dark colors and intricate patterns, although I’m no judge of fine tapestry. “Is this your work?” I asked.
“Some is. Do you like it?”
I nodded. “They’re beautiful, but I don’t know much about tapestry.”
“You don’t need to,” she purred, tilting her head slightly and observing me from an angle. “Just enjoy what you see.”
“That’s how we should appreciate art,” I said. She stared at me, amused. Flickering candlelight made her eyes sparkle. “I want to ask you about Eric.”
“I was so sorry to hear what happened.”
“Jaycee Washington said he got the drug at your party. It’s called Rapture.”
“Arachne’s party.”
“Right. Was her party here in the showroom?”
“It was upstairs in the apartment. Would you like to see it?”
“Intriguing offer. Jaycee said Eric got Rapture from a guy wearing a long gray robe with a hood.”
She put one finger to her lips. Her nails were black, too, overlaid with gold spider web nail art. “You a cop?”
“I’m a musician. Blues and jazz.”
“Much better. Are you sure you’re an Aries? I see a major turning point in your life coming soon. The next knock on the door could be it. Don’t hesitate to answer.”
I laughed, and she cracked a smile. She had very white teeth. Beneath the smell of the candles throughout the room, I sensed a subtler scent: vanilla and something woody, maybe rose. I felt the urge to move closer to her and realized her perfume’s effect on me. I stood my ground.
“I think the guy might have called himself Raylan Major.”
She chuckled at that. “I don’t know if he deals. Maybe he was carrying. It was a party. People share.”
“He a friend of yours? Raylan Major?”
She shook her head. “Not totally. I mean, like, I barely knew him. We met at a Cosplay convention.”
“What’s that?”
She pouted, giving a look that said I was totally out of touch. “You know, Cosplay. Costume play. You’re obviously not into it.” She made me feel like a dork.
“You dress up like a character from a movie or a comic book or something and pretend to be that character.”
That’s where her Arachne persona came from, although I had no clue who Arachne was. I made a mental note to look it up. “I usually dress up as a musician,” I told her.
“It’s a good look on you.” She put her hands on her hips, which drew attention to her lower body. I stayed focused on her face. “Anyway, his name isn’t Raylan Major. His character is Wraithlan Mager.” She spelled it for me.
“Who’s that?”
“Jeez, dude, you really don’t know what time it is. Wraithlan Mager is from the Nekromanti Saga.”
I must have looked like I had no idea what she just said. She pouted. “The book by Aksel Larsen. You know, the Danish writer? Dude, get real. Wraithlan Mager is, like, this super powerful evil wizard.”
“I’m behind on my reading. So, do you know this guy’s real name?” She canted her head like a dog when it tries to understand what you’re saying. Her long hair fell away from her ear. She wore black earrings, too. She was nothing if not consistent. “I get that he dresses up as a wizard,” I said. “Does he have another name?”
She said, “I don’t care who he is in his other life,” as if that should have been obvious.
“I don’t suppose you know where to find him.”
She raised her hands, palms up. “Clueless.”
“Do you have his number?”
She gave me a coy smile. “Men call me,” she said. “I don’t call them.”
When I thanked her for her time, she said, “You sure you’re not a Leo? Something new and wonderful can start for you today. Don’t be afraid to act on your impulses.”
I took one more look at this bewitching, raven-haired beauty, thanked her for her advice, and then escaped. I didn’t know Raylan Major’s real name or where to find him, but I knew what he pretended to be.