9

Rayne slammed through the cabinets, throwing ingredients and utensils onto the counter. She didn't cook...much. But she could make lasagna. And wonder of wonders, they actually had all the stuff she needed.

She busied herself for a while, letting the normalness of what she was doing sooth her. She never even noticed when Mark stopped in the kitchen doorway to check on her. He did not stay. But her behavior was confusing him.

Rayne finally put the dish into the oven to bake, then went out onto the back porch to once again catch a smoke. It was finally starting to get dark, the sun was almost entirely gone from the horizon. At night, in the quiet, with no lights, this place seemed so...lonely. Desolate. She had to stop that. She was doing nothing but spooking herself.

A sound of footsteps made her heart leap up into her throat. She sighed in relief when it was just Mark, coming around the side of the house, carrying...something in his hand. He looked up at her, then decided not to give her grief about being outside. Wonders never cease. He continued on his way, going around the far corner. Rayne frowned, wondering what he was up to.

"A demon line." Mark's voice made her jump. He was speaking from the corner where she'd first spotted him. How the hell had he gotten back around so fast?

"And what is that?" She managed to ask.

"An invisible wall around the house. Demons cannot cross it." He shrugged. "An old trick, but it should work...for a while. Unless it rains." He looked up at the clear night sky.

"An invisible wall...of what?" Rayne asked, smiling.

"The physical line is made of salt. And...a few other things." He looked up at her. "Old demons won't cross it. It's a form of...territory marking."

Rayne felt a shiver work its way up her spine. Territory. Was he trying to say that the house was his, or she was? There was a happy making thought. Not.

"Uh...how's your friend gonna get back in the house if you blocked him out?"

"Randy is not an old demon. He was raised as a human. It is difficult to understand..." He trailed off. "Magic. Spells. Things of that nature...they only work if the person you use them on believes in them. Humans are taught not to believe. Demons believe fully; they use the magic themselves."

"How...psychological," Rayne flipped her cigarette into the dirt, then went to the top of the steps that led down to the ground. If she looked hard enough she could make out the faint line of white that was the salt he'd spilled on the ground as he'd walked around the house.

"Yes. Mind games. It is what demons rely on. The physical...comes later." He moved to stand in front her of at the bottom of the steps. Rayne was at his eye level for the first time. "The physical is what drives them. They live to feel the next...kill, then next bit of pain. Not their own. They are sadists. They like to hurt others then feed off of the energy that pain gives. It is..."

"Difficult. Yeah." Rayne sighed and hugged herself, wrapping her arms across her stomach. "But I get it. I think."

Mark seemed to lose himself in thought. Rayne studied him in the meager light. He didn't look any different from any other guy she'd ever known. Well, except for the size thing. And he was some kind of demon. And so was Randy. And...who knew how many people she worked with and dealt with during the course of a normal day were not what they seemed to be?

"Turn around."

Mark's voice dragged her from her thoughts. Rayne took a moment to process what he had said.

"Huh? Wh...why?"

Mark sighed and reached for her, hands on her waist, turning her. Before she could protest he was lifting the T-shirt up. Exposing her bare butt. Rayne fidgeted nervously.

"The mark hasn't gotten any bigger..." He said softly. Thoughtfully. As if talking to himself.

"What mark?" Rayne tried to crane her neck, but she was no owl. Damn it. She wished she could see what he was seeing.

Mark raised his free hand and traced a small line in the center of the small of her back. Rayne shivered. "Here. A black line. The start of the number six."

"What?"

"Dominic's...brand," Mark said softly. "For lack of a better word. If he has his way, the mark will be completed. There will be two sixes here..." He ran his finger over her skin. "One of them reversed. Connected here..." His finger stopped on her spine. "If the mark is finished...he wins. Do you understand that? You would go to him willingly, because by that time he would have broken you, would have broken your spirit. He would beat you, take you, torture you, every night for as long as he is not bored with you...and you would go into that willingly."

"I don't want to..." Rayne had to swallow. Her knees were practically shaking.

"It is not a matter of want. Or rather...not a matter of what you want." Mark sighed, his finger once again tracing out the design on her back. "Once he takes you, he will keep you in his realm. Keep you young forever. You would never age. And if he is lucky...and from all signs, it seems to be true...you would be able to produce children with him. He would not kill you. Not for a very long time. But he would make sure you spent your life in hell. One way or the other."

Mark slowly lowered her shirt, covering her back up. He stepped onto the porch until he was directly behind her. "I am not going to let that happen. You have to believe that. As a demon would believe in...certain magic."

"Clap your hands for Tinkerbell..." She said softly.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing." She sighed and moved away from him, going toward the door. Before she went in, she studied him thoughtfully. "I believe that you would do anything to get even with your father for what he did. And if protecting me from him is a means to that end...then you'll do it."

He frowned. That wasn't the response he had been hoping for. Rayne could offer him nothing else though. She couldn't trust him. She'd already seen this friendly act turn into cold-hearted mercilessness. She wasn't going to fall for it again.