Bitten: The One Rises, #1

By Anna Wolfe

"There is another world touching ours that is filled with demons or, at least, that's what we call them. They call themselves something else entirely, though that is neither here nor there. Every now and again, human beings manage to pull these demons through to our side. The human dies, of course, and the demon gets a person shaped suit to live in. We call these creatures the demonridden."

Only fanatics and lunatics believe demons can possess human beings. Or at least, that's what Callie White thought until one possessed her best friend. Now, wanted for murdering the thing that crawled into her friend's body and dealing with hungers and powers she doesn't understand, Callie White just wants to die. She just has to make sure no one can bring another demon over before she goes. When that proves more difficult than expected, Callie is pushed to her limits and discovers just how common demon possession really is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anna Wolfe
• Release date: Apr 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301531400

Anna Wolfe

I'm a college professor with a Ph.D. so new it squeaks. I have a husband, a heterolifemate, and two cats. I'm willing to try any food I've never eaten at least once. I have jumped out of a plane (awesome), blown fire (also awesome), learned that having accelerant soak into your sports bra hurts like hell, and am a pagan (please note that this does not mean I'm a satanist).

Book preview

BITTEN

The First Book of The One Rises

by

Anna Wolfe

* * * * *

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 by Anna Wolfe

Cover Art by Jonathan Burkhardt

Discover other titles at Anna Wolfe's Smashwords Page

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue: Callie White

Chapter 1: Silas

Chapter 2: Callie

Chapter 3: Callie

Chapter 4: Edie Carter

Chapter 5: Callie

Chapter 6: Callie

Chapter 7: Callie

Chapter 8: Mark Little

Chapter 9: Callie

Chapter 10: Callie

Chapter 11: Silas

Chapter 12: Callie

Chapter 13: Mark

Chapter 14: Silas

Chapter 15: Callie

Chapter 16: Edie

Chapter 17: Mark

Chapter 18: Callie

Chapter 19: Edie

Chapter 20: Callie

Chapter 21: Edie

Chapter 22: Callie

Chapter 23: Edie

Chapter 24: Callie

Chapter 25: Edie

Chapter 26: Callie

Chapter 27: Silas

Epilogue: Phaedon Papadapolous

About the Author

Sample Chapters

***

Prologue: Callie White

Callie came to slowly with a familiar tang in her mouth. Keeping her eyes closed, she slowly took an inventory of her body. While her head felt about two sizes too big for her skull, everything else felt fantastic and she was full for the first time in months. After a moment, her brain processed the taste in her mouth and added a smell to help out. She was, in all likelihood, lying in a pool of blood.

Please, no.

She remembered a blond man with a flat, thin mouth that she wanted to kill. Did I succeed? Forcing her eyes open, she looked over the white rug in front of her that was now a dark, nasty red. There was a man’s hand hanging limply from the bed.

Callie rolled over onto her back with a groan and looked around. The bedroom she was in was done mostly in grey and white. On the right, there was a wall of windows that looked out over the night skyline of Chicago. Most of the carpet was white and plush, except for the part that squished under her hand as she pushed herself up. The room looked vaguely familiar and panic bubbled around the edges of her mind.

She looked back at the bed though she was certain that it was a mistake. As she recognized him, her memory came back in a rush. Owen Pedersen was the piece of shit bastard who’d helped a demon possess her closest friend so he could win the damn lottery. A half dozen bodies later, her brother’s among them, she’d managed to kill the demon but not before it had bitten her and left her with some serious problems.

Owen lay on his stomach, his head turned towards her. His mouth was open, his eyes wide in terror, and his back was a bloody mess.

She doubled over as the feel of Owen’s neck under her knee as she pinned him to the mattress flashed brightly in her mind. She’d twisted a hangar until it was doubled over into a long, vicious whip. Her shoulder still ached from the force of the blows and the sound of hitting him was a meaty, sickening sound in her memory. The emotion rolling off of him, though, tasted sharp and sweet as it poured from his skin into hers.

She gagged and the sharp, visceral memory fled. The panic washed in from the edges of her mind to replace the memory. A vise closed around her chest and she gasped, desperate for air. I did that! Oh my god, oh my god, what am I? What am I going to do?

Stumbling back, her body shaking so badly that she could barely walk, Callie staggered to an armchair set by the wide window. Her body forced upright by the stiff shape of the seat, she wondered if Owen had ever actually sat in this chair. She’d meant to kill him. Somewhere around here was a gun, and she’d had every intention of shooting him until he was dead. Hell, she thought, I broke out of a psychiatric facility to do it. Six people are dead, seven if you count Owen, my life is destroyed, and my parents… She bent forward as grief seized her heart. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around what her parents’ life was now like. At least I knew what the fuck had happened. No, Callie felt no guilt that Owen was dead, but torturing him hadn’t been part of the plan.

When she’d pointed the gun at him, his fear had hit her and tasted so good. I think I’ve lost my mind. She got another flash of Owen, a knife pressed against his neck and he was begging, begging her not to kill him. Callie started to cry. Maybe I belong in that psych ward. The demon bite had changed her and she was only beginning to sort how.

Another image bit at her and she cried out. Owen was underneath her, the fear and lust rising up off his skin tasted unbelievably delicious. Her hand was between his legs… I had… I was… I was… her mind skittered and the memory was gone. She tumbled forward and vomited onto the carpet. She couldn’t stop heaving, her eyes and throat burning, as the word rapist rolled around in her mind.

God in heaven, help me. Callie knew her plea would go unanswered. God doesn’t help rapists.

She curled up on the floor, crying and shaking, the taste of vomit sharp and bitter in her mouth. After a while, she remembered something important. The book, the book Owen used. I have to find it. I have to destroy it. Then I can die.

She staggered to her feet. The smell of blood followed her through the apartment as she searched. She was covered it blood, but didn’t know what to do about it. Owen’s memories fluttered in her mind and she knew the book was somewhere in the floor. She began moving furniture and after a few minutes, she moved a stack of shoe boxes in the walk in closet and found a floor safe. Am I strong enough to break it open? She lifted her leg and then lowered it, concerned the neighbors might hear the noise of the safe crumpling under the blow.

There was a sharp pain in her head as the memory of Owen setting the combination rose up and stabbed her. Callie closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths until she was sure she was under control. I do not want to remember killing Owen Pedersen.

She knelt down and entered the 10-digit code. It was a combination of his social security number and his birthday and Callie wished she didn’t know that. The safe opened with a snick, and she pulled the door open to look at a small, leather bound book. Such a small thing to have caused so much trouble. Callie picked it up and flipped it open. The handwriting was small and crabbed and most of the pages contained recipes. It wasn’t until the back that she spotted the spell for demon summoning.

It was just so unbelievable. Some small town kid uses his great-great grandmother’s recipe book to summon a demon. Well, you know, how else are you going to do it? A high-pitched, nervous giggle escaped her and she knew it sounded insane. Picking up the book, she walked to the balcony to exit the same way she arrived. Levitating up to the roof in the cold spring wind, she repeated her plan to herself.

Step 1: Destroy the book. Step 2: Kill myself.

*****

Chapter 1: Silas

There was a sharp knock on Silas’ door and then, without waiting for an invitation, Mark entered. Hey boss man, I got something for you.

Silas pressed his lips together. Why did I ever admit I hated that nickname? Oh that’s right, I didn’t. Truth-sensing bastard. Mark shot a broad grin at Silas and then dropped his body heavily in one of the rickety chairs in front the desk.

If you were not so useful, I would ship you to Siberia. Silas growled at him. It was a growl that had pacified recruits for over a hundred and fifty years, but Mark just snickered. Silas flexed his jaw and glared at him. I’m losing my touch.

C’mon boss man, we both know that’s not true. What good is a human lie detector in the snowy fields of Siberia? Mark wiggled, trying to get himself comfortable, as he spoke.

Silas knew what Mark was going to do next and so made sure to make a threat he knew Mark would care about. If you put your feet on my desk, I am going to make you run laps for the rest of the afternoon.

Mark lifted his eyebrows and then grinned. Fine, be grumpy. Now, you want to know what I found out or not?

Silas raised his eyes skyward. I want so many things, Mr. Little, but by all means, let us begin with your news. Silas leaned back and smirked since Mark hated his last name with a passion.

You remember the guy that got cut up in Chicago? Mark asked.

Silas just looked at him and thought, of course I remember. I assigned the investigation to you, nitwit.

Mark grinned, hands folded over his stomach. This guy, Pedersen, won the lottery, which got my spidey-senses tingling, you know?

Silas nodded and bit back impatience. For the past fifty years or so, people who made deals with demons always wanted to win the lottery or become famous for doing nothing. A hundred years ago they’d wanted to strike gold. Mark knew this because Silas had told him, but Silas had also scolded Mark for rushing his reports too often to get bent out of shape when the boy actually followed instructions.

I’ve been keeping tabs on the Chicago investigation, which has pretty much petered out. Mark snickered at his own lame joke and then continued. I finally got someone to tell me where this Owen character was from, some tiny ass town in Minnesota. So I called up the police department and the very first sergeant I got on the phone couldn’t wait to tell me all the details. He was very cooperative. Six bodies, five of them with clear demonridden bite marks. The final body, the only woman of the bunch, got her head cut off. Mark waggled his eyebrows at Silas.

So, you believe the beheaded woman was demonridden. Silas leaned back to consider what Mark was saying. If that is the case, who killed the man in Chicago?

I’m getting there. The cops in Dundas decided that their killer had to be the girl they found passed out next to the last two bodies, girl by the name of Callie White. Her parents started screaming that they were wrong and everybody was unhappy when she was stuck in a high security psych ward. About a week before Pedersen bit it, she broke out. I put the file the sergeant sent me on our server. Mark pointed at the computer with a jerk of his chin.

Silas sighed and rotated in his chair. By the One, I hate computers. Silas clicked through the folders, looking for the new material Mark uploaded. He was still suspicious of the technology. It seemed like too much power to put in human hands and it certainly seemed to make it easier for the demonridden to manipulate the world around them.

I think Callie White is runnin’ around with a demon bite and probably getting hungrier by the minute. If she hasn’t crossed over already. Mark said, unable to stop talking for more than a thirty seconds.

Silas waved his hand at Mark and opened the image files. He scrolled through the images of the bodies. The first four were all young men, probably sixteen or seventeen. They were mostly unclothed and had been torn apart and Silas saw a bite pattern in the flesh. If the doctor doing the autopsies were good at his or her job, the medical reports would mention sexual contact or assault. The sixth body was a boy, about fifteen and the only black victim; his race would have been unimportant except that he was Callie’s brother. The differences in their racial appearances would be worth further investigation. The final boy’s skull had been crushed. He was still fully clothed and had been found not far from the final victim’s body, the young woman who had been decapitated.

The girl, Callie, had a bite mark? Silas asked.

Yep, on the right thigh. At least, that’s what the medical report said, from the emergency room where they brought her. The bite wasn’t fresh. She was in a coma for months. Mark added, There’s a school photo of her in there. I titled it White1.

Silas opened another file and saw a girl who would be invisible at any school, even one as small as the one she attended. She was neither pretty nor ugly, with long thin hair in a washed out brown that was almost blond. Her skin was the kind of white that had yellow undertones. She had a pointed chin which, when combined with her too big eyes, made her look even younger. In the photo, she was hunching her shoulders and giving the person behind the camera a strained smile. Mostly, she looked uncomfortable.

How did the Chicago cops miss this? For that matter, how did the Minnesota officers miss it? Either way you looked at it, there was an obvious link between the events and Illinois was not so far from Minnesota. Silas made a brief mental note to look into Callie and her brother’s adoption at a later point. He then turned his focus to more pressing problems.

I think someone’s trying to bury this and hard. Mark said, the humor in his face gone. By the time I talked to anyone, the Chicago cops’ had already decided Owen’s death was an accident. Since he got beat to death, I don’t see how anyone could think that, but every last one I talked to used the same phrase, ‘an unfortunate incident’. It was seriously weird, man.

Silas finally let himself sigh. I see. Well, that puts an unpleasant spin on the whole thing. Put the word out and we shall see if we can find her before she kills too often. Maybe we can still save her. Silas didn’t hold out much hope. Six months was a long time for one of the bitten to go without food of some kind and the killing was so easy.


No need. Mark twisted his mouth up into a smile. Take a look at White2.

Silas lifted an eyebrow, but did as he was bid. It was a grainy black and white photo of a squat brick building. A figure was exiting through a set of double doors: small, thin, and wearing an enormous grey hoodie. Silas could see the outline of her face despite the hood and knew it was the target. He looked at Mark and quirked one eyebrow.

Don’t you want to know where she is? Mark asked, studiously picking a piece of lint from his t-shirt.

Do tell. Silas continued to look at him, knowing Mark had gotten this information using methods Silas had expressly forbidden.

Chicago. Mark nodded, as if to himself.

Really? How surprising. She did not run. Interesting. Silas let the silence spin out as he scanned the police report from Dundas. Mark was not comfortable with quiet. Silas paused for a moment over her psychological profile. I wonder if she’s actually schizophrenic or if that was conveniently made up.

I had Spider find it for me. Mark met Silas’ eyes angrily as he spoke.

Silas made a tsking sound. When he comes to collect his payment, I will not protect you. Not when you have so actively ignored my advice to stay away from him.

Mark snorted. I’m not an idiot. I know the rules. He can’t kill me and he can’t permanently injure me emotionally, magically, or physically.

Silas kept his face still. "There is a great deal of latitude in the limitations I have placed on Spider and