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Sonny Preyer - A Fairy Tale of a Different Kind

©2002 Bridgette Hayden, Graphic Art © 2007 Party_Advisor


Dedication Page
About the Author

Chapter 7 (of 30)



They were watching him again. He kept his arms folded and his head bent over his plate. He knew they weren't going to be satisfied until he took his first bite. The steak was already cut for him. The steam from the roasted garlic potatoes wafted up, sickening him. He didn't even want to consider the green beans.

Yes he was starving, but he couldn't eat this. It just looked... so thick, so heavy. All of it. And the attack that overcame him in the bathroom still lingered. Sleep hadn't helped. In fact, he could swear that he felt worse. Much worse.

His mother put down her drink. "Don't tell me you're not hungry. I know you're running a pretty high fever, but what have you eaten in the last twenty-four hours?"

He didn't answer. He didn't have to. The phone rang just then, compromising her attention on him. After she got up to answer it, he pushed his plate away, ignoring Dom's frown.

"It's for you, Sonny." She gave him the cordless.

Who could be calling him? No one ever called him. His parents waited, as if they were thinking the same thing.


"Hello, Sonny. How do you feel?" Brecca's voice sounded very soft over the phone. Soothing.


"I'm not calling at a bad time, am I?"

He turned away from Amber's inquisitive look.

"Um, no."

"You know, I meant what I told you at the hospital. I've really always wanted to get to know you."

He didn't know how to reply. She'd said lot of things at the hospital.

"I know it sounds corny, but I just sense things about people. I read them."

"Uh-huh." He got up from the table, taking the phone into the living room.

"Listen, I said a lot of crazy things. If you let me, I'd like to start over again."

He remained silent. He wasn't ready to affirm anything.

"Okay. Maybe I'm going a little too fast for you, and you're not comfortable with it. I'm putting myself forward like this because I know you could really use a friend right now. And I've always wanted to be your friend anyway. In seventh grade I had a crush on you."

No way. "Really?"

"Yep. And when we went on that camping trip, I snuck around taking pictures of you the whole time. Of course, you were almost out of frame in all of them. I didn't want it to seem obvious that I was taking your picture."

He tried to remember her at camp. All he could come up with was a plastic, bright red raincoat, and a girl with glasses.

"So that's my confession. Shows you how mature I've grown since my stalker days."

"Did you used to wear glasses?"

"Still do, when I'm not wearing contacts."

"I remember you." He did. He remembered standing on the porch outside the canteen, eating lunch by himself while sixty other kids went crazy inside. It rained every day but one during camp. That day, he stared through the drizzle at a single person in a red raincoat, walking in the puddles down by a dilapidated basketball court. She always seemed to be alone too, he had thought. It never occurred to him that she even acknowledged his existence, let alone had any crush on him.

"So there any chance that you and I could talk this evening in person? Just for a little while?"

"You and me?"

"Sure, and maybe some junk food. Do you like guacamole potato chips?"

"I've never had any."

"Well tonight's your lucky night. Shall I bring drinks also?"

What the hell was he doing? Agreeing? No one ever came to his house. But she made it sound so... so easy.

"No. I mean, we have stuff to drink."


"What time do you think you'll-".

"How about now?"

"Right now? This very minute?"

"Yeah, unless that's a problem."

"Um, no. That's fine."

"Great. I'll see you shortly."

When he hung up, he wasn't entirely sure of what he'd just done. He glanced up to find his parents peering at him from the kitchen table.

"That was Brecca. I invited her over."

He waited, as if they were going to challenge him. When they didn't, he went upstairs to change.

He didn't get dressed up or anything. It wasn't like a date, he told himself. He put on jeans and a freshly ironed T-shirt. In the mirror, he tried to do something with his hair. Having been wet when he lay down, it dried with every strand going in a different direction. It just occurred to him how long his hair had gotten since his last cut three weeks ago. Had he somehow missed the tangle of crescent-shaped curls? He'd always worn it too short for the loose ringlets to form. He knew from pictures of before he started school, that the outcome of having longish hair would be dark, wide, sweeping half-circles, too heavy to be full curls, that fell in fine loops around his head and touched his shoulders. It seemed he'd missed his usual timing. But then, a lot of things were out of kilter.

Fatigue continued to pull at him. Every now and then he clutched his abdomen, his hands wanting to stray lower, where the source seemed to be. His insides felt like jelly, sending a rippling current through him. Every move he made caused an unbearable grazing in places he tried not to think about. His head reeled, forcing him to give up on his hair altogether.

Sitting down on his bed to rest a minute, he reluctantly thought of the things Shore had said to him that first time. The man was crazier than all get out.

So why were these things happening to him? What if Sanders couldn't help him?

He heard a knock. His mother stuck her head in. "Your friends are here."

"Friends?" His stomach clenched.

Why was he pretending to be well enough for company? His parents had already expressed their concern, if not their downright disapproval. Oh they let him get to his room at first. But ten minutes later they were at his door. Before it was over, Sonny had flat out told them, "Yes, I feel like crap. But I just want someone to talk to."

The outburst induced a change of heart in them. Now coming downstairs, he was having a change of heart also. There, seated in the living room, was Brecca, beaming up at him. And beside her sat her cousin, Elden, his hair and skin strangely vibrant compared to her warmer, darker tones.

Sonny stopped midway down.

Elden also offered a smile, much more subdued. His head tilted a little. And it seemed to Sonny that the guy was using his eyes to pinpoint, to take aim. No longer wearing the bandana, his straight blond hair was fixed like Brecca's. The top half was bound smoothly across his head, clasped in a pony-tail, while the lower half hung free, sprawling around his neck and shoulders.

Maybe they are cousins, the weirdoes.

Their little party started off on formal terms. Awkward hellos were exchanged. Dom and Amber took their leave, seeing that Sonny fully expected them to. Gradually, with Brecca's cheerful encouragement, he felt the ice thaw a bit. It was her idea to break out the chips, asking for a bowl. Her idea to go into the den where the stereo was, and her initiative that got Sonny to talk about his scholarship.

The three of them sat on the floor, on couch pillows in front of the speakers. Mainstream radio played at a moderate volume.

Elden listened calmly to Sonny while Brecca crunched on chips. She turned to Elden, popping the top off her drink. "You should hear him sing. It's incredible."

"Perhaps I will one day." Elden held Sonny's stare.

"So try a chip, Son. These are the best." She handed the bowl to him. He hesitated. The entire bowl of chips were a sickly light green color, as if all the potatoes used had been spoiled.

"It's guacamole." She encouraged.

He took a single chip. Both Elden and Brecca waited in anticipation.

It wasn't that bad, not nearly as bad as they looked. But he wasn't going to eat another one.

His mouth watered at the salty residue left on his tongue. He detected only a faint hint of the unusual, sweet taste that kept invading his mouth. But more than anything, the chip had provoked a painful hunger. He remembered that he hadn't eaten dinner. Queasiness washed over him. It brought a noticeable heated flush. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the turbulence to pass. Apologizing for his behavior was not an option at that precise moment.

When he opened his eyes, the other two sat still as stone, their full attention on him. They looked like they were waiting for something to happen.

"Sorry. I don't feel so great right now. I should've told you." As if to prove his point, his eyes started to water.

What the hell?

On the verge of dropping all pretense, he offered them a reassuring smile. For some reason, their expressions took on the added quality of pure horror.

"What?" Sonny wiped his face.

It was Elden who spoke. "I have something for you. I wasn't sure, but now I am."

Sonny saw him reach behind for the crumpled grocery bag Brecca had brought the chips in. From it, he produced a clear plastic sack of what appeared to be fresh, ripe tomatoes. Six of them.

He held them out to Sonny. "There are other things you can eat, but these work the fastest."

Sonny was mortified. If they had seen him flush before, they surely saw a violent reaction now. How did he know?

Again, Elden's level gaze narrowed at him. Only this time, the expression was serious and firm.

Outraged that that they were witnessing what was apparently his total meltdown, Sonny wanted to tell them to leave. But he couldn't deny that his whole being ached to get to those tomatoes. He wanted them, but he would not take them. He silently willed his refusal, and it was understood.

But Elden persisted. "You are in need. Your embodiment is depleted. The seal is ready to break, and you must help it or you will be torn apart."

Sonny stared, paralyzed. Part of him could not jump up and run from these crazy people fast enough. And part of him didn't want to leave without the offering. He trembled at the ferocity of his body's indecision.

"Please, Son," Brecca implored. "Don't fight it."

Elden placed the tomatoes in his lap.

Sonny jumped to his feet and stumbled out of the room. He wanted to go up to his room, but the thought of climbing the stairs discouraged him. Too effortful. He moved into the kitchen and let himself drop at the table. Appalled at what he held in his hand, that didn't stop him from tearing the bag open and biting into the delicate flesh of a tomato. The liquid pulp gushed into his mouth. Every tissue fiber in his body awoke, communicating the acrid stimulus throughout a network of craving cells.

In a trance, he used his fingers impatiently to push and crush the ruptured bulk into his mouth, gathering as much of the juice as possible. He sucked furiously at what didn't squirt and dribble down his shirt and his arms. He wanted the liquid to flood his throat, the same way a glass of cold water would. But the tomatoes were limited. He couldn't suck hard or fast enough. He wasted no time chewing as the flesh ground against his upper pallet into a stocky flow. He consumed four of the tomatoes without stopping. Only when he felt the heaviness of his engorged stomach, did he pause to consider the remaining two.

When he looked, his parents, along with Brecca and Elden, all stood under the arch watching him. They had been there the whole time, he realized. What a sight he must be, covered in sticky tomato juice.

He appealed to them with words that would not form. Finally asking, "What's wrong with me?"

It was a calm question put to them, before he simply fell apart. "What's happening to me?"

The stress of three weeks' worth of unexplainable events, and of a lifetime of uncertainty, finally broke free. Without spirit enough to get up and hide, he wept openly in front of them, covering his face with his hands.

Amber started towards him. Dom grabbed her arm. "We have to call a meeting." He pulled her into the living room. "We thought we could outrun this. We were wrong."

"You know what they'll do. I haven't spent eighteen years avoiding those people just so that I can call them up and offer them my child!"

"He's not making it. He doesn't know the first thing about Opening Meditations. We didn't teach him, and it's not instinctive. We got fed up with all that crap, and now everything they said is happening. We need help. Sonny needs help."

"That's what I'm here for," Elden interrupted. The two dropped their arguing, taking him in.

"I am sent to ease his passage. I am an ardor from the clan of Sanjara. I would draw the charge away from him if he would let me. I am a conduit unto the House of Lumen, of the First Order, and his natural servant."

The blood drained from Amber's and Dom's faces.

"Silly humans. You should have prepared him for this. You were bestowed a great responsibility. Did you think we would let you out of our sight? You have kept the truth from him long enough. If he does not escape the seal before morning, he will not awaken in his kingdom. The curse will prevail. The enemy will be drawn to his power, and he will be lost to us forever."

Amber balled her fists. "He's my child!"

Elden answered her squarely. "He is not your child. He is a treasure, entrusted to you for safekeeping. If he does not make it, you have failed. And you will not be forgiven. Your lives will wither as our land will, for you are bound to the promise you have made."

"You people don't understand," Dom pleaded. "We're a family. My wife gave birth to Sonny. We can't just let you take him."

"If I take him now, he may return to you. If I do not, the enemy will find him and he will never return to you."

"What do you have to do?"

"Right now, console him."

Elden gave instructions to Dom, "Help him to his room. He doesn't trust me still. We will need the Assembly. They are waiting to be invited into your home."

In the kitchen, Brecca sat with Sonny. Her hand gently stroked his back. "It's gonna be alright."

Sonny had stopped crying. With his head bowed over the table, he had been listening to the exchange between his parents and Elden. Though his head floated, he struggled to hang on to their words.

What did it mean to be an ardor? What was that about an enemy? Things were just too crazy.

Finally the arguing stopped. He looked up just as Amber left the huddled group. Dom answered before he could ask. "She's gone to call Sanders. Maybe he should have a look at you."

His father came over to him. "It's going to be okay. I think you should go upstairs and lie down."

He knew Dom was right about lying down, but he didn't think anything was going to be okay.

"What's going on, Dad? I feel so weird."

Dom placed his hand on Sonny's head, stroking his hair. "We're not entirely sure. You're much more ill than we thought, but it's going to be all right. Some people are coming over to help you, Sanders included."

There were a million questions vying to be asked. But the vibrations were rising again. He could do nothing but endure them. This time, his tears fell from the sheer humiliation of losing control of his body in front of everyone. This time, the waves were violent. Sonny tried to brace himself against the table. Someone grabbed his hand.

It was Elden, kneeling beside him, cupping his right hand with both of his. "Hold onto me. Squeeze my hand. Put the pain there. You can."

In spite of himself, Sonny squeezed.

"Concentrate on the pressure right here. Go past the pain. It can be done."

He tried to move his awareness from the force pushing through him, to the effort of squeezing Elden's hand.

Dom asked, "What's happening?"

"You know. Or have you forgotten? His magnetic polarity is reversing. The structure of what you call his biochemistry is changing. Every cell in his body is attempting to accommodate this adjustment. His body is suffering electromagnetic contractions. There is too much nectus in his system. It wants to find release. That's what's causing the fever. I shall give him release."

These were just words to Sonny, who felt the ebbing of the vibrations at last. He was no longer trying to make sense of anything. He had to lie down.

"Let's get him to his room." Elden stood.

He fell against his father when Dom bent down over him. He was dimly aware of being lifted and carried up the stairs.

The strange reverberation throughout his muscles would not let him sleep peacefully. As he tossed on fresh sheets, having heard Elden insisting upon them, he became aware of people coming and going from his room. At least twice, Sanders appeared. He recognized his doctor's voice, and opened his eyes long enough to see the man's benevolent smile. He felt hands on him, pressing and prodding. The doctor spoke, but not to him.

"The sedative will weaken his resolve. He can't fight you then, Elden."

"Yet nothing can be done until the fever recedes. He is coming into his own. The effects of your medicines cannot be predicted now."

"His body is still human and subject to human laws."

"Not entirely. And not for long. The seal membrane is stretched very thin and ready to break. Already, the elixir spills under his tongue and flows in his mouth."

"How do you know this? You have seen it?"

"I have tasted it. I had to be sure of his stage."

"Really? Dear me, I am truly blessed to be alive to see this day. Eighteen years ago on this plane, I wasn't certain that I would be."

Sonny's eyes strayed to the corner of his room, where he saw Elden sitting at his desk, the chair facing his bed. The young man leaned forward intently.

Later, he awakened to find his parents addressing him. Their words made no sense, but he acknowledged the remorse in their faces. Was he dying?

And several times, it seemed to him that people he had never met before, were standing over him, watching him. Then there were faces he did recognize. Mrs. Bay, his gym teacher. Her face drifted before him and floated away like a watery reflection. Was that the librarian, Ms. Houston? Old Man Keller? What was Reverend Mendleson doing here?

Maybe he really was dying. Or dreaming. But maybe this is what dying was like, a dense lethargy that immobilized, coming and going, confusing everything around and within. But then a face stared down at him that he couldn't imagine being welcomed into his house. It was the man who'd chased him into the woods, who had threatened to kill him. His body tensed. But just as suddenly, Shore disappeared.

He wondered what was real, and what wasn't. In the dark behind his eyelids, he felt his skin exposed to the air. A cool touch of wetness brushed across his face, his neck and shoulders. It dabbed along his chest and stomach, bringing some relief to his roasting skin. He sank into a velvet sleep.

At last, he broke from his binding slumber. He focused on the objects in his room with new clarity and a heightened lucidity. Soft gold light surrounded his bed, reflecting warmly off of the paneling of his walls. He realized there were tiny candles sprinkled throughout the darkness. As if his critical faculties were still asleep, he found the flickering shadows around him to be soothing, not alarming.

"How do you feel?" This question came from the corner of the room. Elden rose from the shadows and came over. "Can you understand me?"

He nodded.

"Good. The fever has broken for now."

Elden sat on the bed. Something shifted in Sonny. He tried to sit up. But Elden stopped him. "Please, this must be a terrible ordeal for you. But we are eager to explain. And we will do so, once you are past this crisis."

Sonny shoved Elden's hand away and pushed himself up. "What crisis? I'm sick of this. Tell me now."

Elden's arm held in midair, where Sonny had pushed it. The young man appeared frozen, shocked. Then he brought his arm down slowly, and turned his gaze to the floor. "You don't like me, do you?"

This was the last thing Sonny expected. He had only seen a proud, confident air about Elden. Impenetrable. Maybe he'd felt threatened by that. Now, even the silken blond strands that poured over the guy's shoulders appeared crestfallen.

"I don't know you. And I don't know what's going on."

"It is hoped that you would like me. My line of people are conditioned to be of use to you. No one else can properly do for you what I can. We were paired long ago." He turned back to Sonny. "I'm the only one who can help you now. I'm the only one who can calm the forces that run through you."

Elden drew himself closer. Sonny inched further away.

"We haven't much time. Why do you fight it? I know you don't remember, but what rages through you should tell you what to do. Should make it impossible to resist me. It is your nature. Please, take the assistance that I offer. You should've relented when we met this morning."

Sonny remembered the almost instant aversion he felt upon meeting Elden.

"You hurt, and I can stop it. Let me."

With this, he reached out, touching the fine hairs along Sonny's temple. "Let me."

He realized that Elden's face was closing in. Just for a second, he was tempted to stay put, to see what it would be like. Elden's lips appeared without crease, and soft.

But he flew to the opposite side of the bed, wrestling to be free of the covers as Elden took hold of his clothing. Only then did he notice what he was wearing. Some kind of heavy, black dressing gown, like a short robe, and weird, loose pants beneath.

Breaking out of Elden's grip, he scuttled away from the bed, hitting the dresser. Candles shook there. In the mirror, he saw Elden coming at him across the bed.

He raced for the door. The other dove at him. They hit the floor. Sonny, face down, felt warm breath against his ear.

"It would be easier if you had taken to me. Now, what could've been gently released, has to be forced from you."

Elden lifted himself, allowing the thinner, smaller mass beneath him just enough room to be pulled over onto his back. Concentrating on his task, he bent. An internal alarm screamed inside of Sonny. He twisted his wrist free from Elden's grip. He had never punched anyone in his life, and in spite of his fear, he wasn't sure he could do it now. Instead, his fingers sunk into pliable flesh. His straddler was forced to defend himself, loosening his hold on Sonny's other wrist, and reaching for his face. Quickly, Sonny looked for something. The only thing his free left hand could find close by, was a dress shoe wedged under his bed. With all his desperation, Sonny palmed it and slung. He caught the side of Elden's head.

The blow wasn't hard enough to get him off, or even to stun him a little. But it did have an effect. Elden brought his hands down from his bleeding face. He no longer attempted to restrain Sonny. With steel and pain in his voice, he looked down at him. "As you wish, my Illumenae."

He lifted his weight off of Sonny, who jumped to his feet. With trembling fingers, he undid the lock on his door and threw himself out of it.

"Dad!" He ran to his parent's room, finding no one.

"Mom?" He headed for the stairs, propelling himself forward. Jumping two at a time, he could barely stop himself when he saw all the people in the living room.

Open-mouthed, he braked against the banister. His legs slid out from under him. Midway down the stairs, he observed that every head had turned to him. The lights were dimmed and more candles hovered about the room. He could hardly pick himself up.

Who were all these people? There must've been fifty sets of eyes glued to him.

"It's okay, Son. We're here." Dom split through the group. Amber followed.

He would've run to them. But something held him back; some sickening suspicion creeping into his awareness.

Dom held up his hands as if coaxing Sonny's confusion to disappear. "These people want to help you. We have to let them. It's important that you let them."

Sonny scrutinized everyone watching him. Some of them smiled, lifting wine glasses to him. He could've sworn some of them bowed. Quite a few were wearing robes of different colors, similar to his own. And those faces floating before him in his dreams were now standing below him, looking up. Mrs. Bay put her fingers to her lips and held them out, extending a kiss. Tears glistened in her eyes. As if things could not get anymore bizarre, a figure stepped out from behind her.

Horror slid its icy fingers around Sonny's heart.

Shore stared up at him.

Looking past the stubble, there was darkness in the counselor's face. Unlike the others around him, who appeared dressed in their finest, Shore's crumpled, stale suit looked like he'd worn it for days. In fact, Sonny thought he recognized the jacket worn at the baseball field.

Shore stared back at him through the opening of his disheveled hair, with eyes that seemed never to have known humor, and never to have strayed from purpose. He looked positively haggard, but ready for battle. The lines in his face appeared even more deep and pronounced. His eyes bore into Sonny's with definite intent.

"So you have not accepted your ardor?" He asked.

Sonny knew the question was directed at him. He even understood it, but could not respond. He sank slowly, crouching on the stairs, until he was looking at everyone through the poles in the banister.

"I tried. I have failed."

The voice came from behind him. He turned. At the top stood Elden, looking both proud and defeated. "The Illumenae will have nothing to do with me." He directed the statement at Sonny.

Below, Shore expelled a heavy sigh, and cursed under his breath.

"Very well," he said, drawing himself up. "Midnight is an hour away. We can wait no longer. Let all who bear witness know that I am given charge to wield the Dagger of Latha."

Sonny watched him reach into his jacket. It was like a nightmare. In front of all these people, his parents even, Shore boldly pulled the sinister blade out, for all to see. And absolutely no one objected. Not even his parents, who stared up at him so strangely.

What was wrong with them?

"Mom? Dad! Don't let him. Please don't let him hurt me. Please!"

Amber covered her mouth. Beside her, Dom broke.

Sonny watched his father's huge shoulders give away as he began to cry. His parents were approached by people who quickly led them away.

With Shore headed for the stairs, and Elden blocking the top, Sonny flooded with adrenaline. Panic on legs, he hardly knew what he was doing when he leapt the remaining steps and hit the floor running, just a yard out of Shore's reach. It got him to the front door, where he twisted the bolt and handle at the same time, jerking the door open. He was on the porch and down the steps before he noticed the horde of people standing around on the lawn. All of them held candles.

The shock was enough to stop him. His yard looked like an eerie Christmas Mass, lighting up the dark of his neighborhood. More than a hundred faces peered over their tiny flames at him.

The wheels in his mind spun, fighting for traction.

Run! Run through them.

He lunged at the shadowy faces blocking his way. But Shore caught him. It would've been déja vu for him if he hadn't believed that he was about to be murdered, apparently with the Universe's consent.

"No!" Why wouldn't anyone help him?

Shore tried to adjust his grip. Sonny slid to the concrete pavement, attempting to dodge hands that wanted to capture his arms. His attacker gave up trying to pin them, and simply started to drag him, kicking and flailing, back up the walkway.

Sonny fought with a desperation that broke the hearts of all who bore witness to the crime. His robe tore. His bare skin raked over the pavement. He thrashed and screamed with a voice that forced some to turn away. Lost, he knew he was lost. Still he pushed against his cage made of flesh and bone. Hoisted to his feet, he pushed with all his might, only to have his arms wrenched behind his back and pulled against the monster of the nightmare. Shore used one hand and the pressure of their bodies to keep his arms pinned, forcing that pressure even more as the other arm wrapped around Sonny's chest. In this way, they struggled up the steps.

Witnesses on the lawn came forward, threatening to follow onto the porch.

Sonny's scream scoured his vocal chords. "Help me please. Please! God please," he sobbed to an unresponsive deity.

The door was held open as Shore dragged him back inside. Even inside, Shore's grip never loosened. Not until he had wrestled Sonny back into the living room, where they were flanked by the others, who waited.

It happened at the bottom of the stairs. Shore held him to the floor, straddling him as Elden had done. Slowly, almost with tenderness, he opened Sonny's robe, baring his pale chest.

Sonny looked up at him, trying to break through Shore's madness. Others held his arms as Shore drew out the knife.

Above him, Shore himself appeared to shudder. Was that fear in his eyes?

Suddenly, Shore did something Sonny was not expecting. He leaned down over him and swiftly took Sonny's mouth into his own, finishing what Elden had started.

Crude, and beyond any invasion Sonny had ever known, he wanted the floor to open and take him right then. He twisted to get away from the protrusion slipping into his mouth, from the pressure. There was a strain. Elastic flesh seemed to break, to tear, flooding him with the essence he had tasted in his mouth earlier. He could actually feel fluid spurt under his tongue, pulled forth.

Finally, Shore seemed to have what he wanted. He pulled away. Sonny could breathe again. Until he felt the rich water fill up his throat, washing into his sinuses. He jerked his head to the side, ejecting the fluid as much as he could. He hadn't forgotten about the knife. He saw it poised above. He saw it come down.

The weapon spliced with precision, into his sternum and through it. His scream broke free. The point had found more than bone and muscle, more than cartilage and organs. It found the truth, sealed shut to contain living memory.

The seal broke, and all of Sonny's world exploded.

Hi there! There's lots more to read. Sonny's saga currently consists of three books with more on the way. Purchase here. Be sure to let me know if you're enjoying my novel and thanks for playing along!

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