A demon in the rose. 
Red, the color of flame.
Red, the color of passion. 
Red, the color of blood. 
Red can mean many things, flame can be evil, such as the great fire of London, or it can be kind like, the flame of a soft lantern underneath a starry night sky. Red can mean the passion of life, or the blood of a victim, red can mean life, or death. But it is up to you whether you make red evil, or a beautiful thing. 
Prologue 

"The agreement has been made." said a voice shrouded in the smoke. The smoke was red, as red as a spider lilies petals, or that of a crimson flame. The boy could just make out a pair of glowing eyes, they were a shade of a deep cerulean blue, clashing brilliantly with the blood colored smoke. " Are you certain you wish to follow Thur with this contract? Because when your task is complete,  I get my prize... Your soul. Do we have a deal?" The voice was like a rumble of warmth, he did not give off a killer intent, but that of a friend. It still did not lower the boys guard. 

      As his last words were said the man stepped forth from the shrouding mist.  The boy watched this man carefully. Taking in the sight before him, the man was easily six foot, well built with a stomach and chest rippling with muscles yet well chiseled and defined, showing that his body was quick and graceful, yet holding power behind his movements.

The demons biceps were thick with muscle and had a tattoo on his left arm, in the shape of a fox with  nine tails. From his fore arms to his finger tips, were covered in bandages.  He wore a red trench coat with wide tails at the back. Underneath the coat was his brazen chest. He wore black leather pants with a silver chain on the right pocket. He had boots of leather with steel buckles. His skin was a perfect shade of brass and his hair,  a shade of crimson that fell over one eye. 

He holds out his hand and flashes a sparkling white smile, his eyes flash knowingly as he holds in his out-stretched hand, a parchment that states the rules of there agreement. 'The demon shall protect this boy from harm, and serve him to the best of this demons ability, and in return when the child's self appointed goal or task is complete, the demon may devour his soul.' From the demons hand erupted flames and a dagger appeared, " This must be signed in blood to be binding," he handed the knife to the boy. The boy took the blade and slid it across his palm, a small trickle of red following the trail of the knife, he winced at the pain but pushed it aside so as not to show weakness.  

He held his hand over the paper, hand dripping the crimson liquid. Suddenly the type began glowing, and the blood droplets gathered to form a symbol. The symbol was simple enough, a triangle in a circle of twelve crosses surrounded by six smaller circles. 

"Now for my mark, to prove you are mine. When you need me reveal this and call my name. But this will hurt a bit," his hand began to glow a crimson hue, " the more obvious the place where the marker is placed, the stronger the bond will be." 

The demon pulled the boy close, and placed his glowing hand on the boys back. The child winced, using every ounce of strength not to cry out. It burned, it burned like a hot iron striking ones back. And he should know considering he had lived his life in abuse. 

He fell forward when the heat was gone, falling in the demons awaiting arms, "Your welcome," he leaned close and whispered with a twisted smile on his lips, " Master."