Frozen Over: Redd & Wight (Book 3) - Urban Progression Fantasy, page 1
Redd & Wight 3
Kleggt
This book is dedicated to the trappings of our mortal existence.
Copyright © 2025 by Kleggt
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact contact@kleggt.co.uk
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Cover design by J Caleb Design
1
Dawn of the Redd
I often dreamed that I was falling.
A small figure against an infinite void of pitch black. Sinking as if lost in an unending sea. Occasionally, I’d raise my hands up in some kind of protest. Fingertips hoping to claw onto some edge in the nothingness so that I could gain some footing.
My right hand burned bright crimson. Black talons scratched through the trail of energy it left behind.
On my left, my hand was a radiant gold. The trail behind it as I fell, a pale white.
There was never any end or closure to the dream. I would fall until my brain moved on to something else, or I awoke in a brief panic.
Today was the latter.
I groaned as my blurry eyes tried to focus on the shapes highlighted by the morning light, my racing heartbeat starting to slow. Then I swung my legs around and palmed at my eye sockets as I sat at the edge of the bed. With a deep sigh, I felt at the thick carpet with my toes. Comforting. Grounded.
The bed shifted as a figure loomed up behind me. The warmth of a demon pressed against my bare back. Two horns of black amidst silver-white hair. I felt her breath against my shoulder as she gave it a brief kiss.
“The falling dream, again?” she asked softly in my ear.
I smiled and turned my head to look into her radiant eyes. Two pools of pearlescent energy were a contrast to her light purple skin. “Sure was.”
She gave me a pat on the back and moved away, stealing away her body heat from me. “I’m no therapist, Eric, but no doubt it’s some lingering amount of corruption.”
Pearl was probably right. It had been an uneventful week, and I had decompressed from the last Quest. There was still trauma from it, though. No surprise, to be honest. Not only did I take an unbelievable amount of damage, but briefly both became a demon and filled my jug with pure radiant energy. It was a lot for any mortal.
“Plenty of worse things I could be dreaming about,” I sighed, and looked back at the drawers and wall ahead of me.
“Plenty of better, too,” she purred. “Remember, I’m going away for a couple of days.”
“Of course.” How could I forget? In the new house, things had been even more of the thick slice of bliss my soul craved. The vacation had been nice, but we each had our part to play in saving the world.
“And what does that mean?” she continued, as she left the bed and walked over to the middle of the room.
I admired her silhouetted figure for a moment before she clicked her fingers, and with a wave of pink energy, she was fully dressed. White blouse, gray jacket and slacks. Business to attend to that required the sharp end of her tongue rather than her sword.
“It means I’m not to get myself into mortal peril or destroy my body any more than necessary.” I added that part at the end, a little bending of the contract.
She tilted her head. “It’s like trying to teach a puppy to behave sometimes. Just don’t die, okay?”
My smile probably wasn’t very convincing. Danger drew to me like moths to a flame. The demon standing before me was no exception. I wondered if she’d ever had a puppy to train previously. A hellhound, maybe?
“I promise,” I eventually relented. “These things are usually out of my hands, though.”
Pearl walked over and ran her fingers through my hair. It brought a calming effect, reflected from the times she had nursed me away from death’s door. I calmed, much like a trained puppy.
“That doesn’t mean spending all your time in the study being noir, either.”
“Now that, I can’t promise.” I grinned up at her, and she leaned down to kiss me.
“Stay safe, Eric.” She stepped back, and with a flash of pink, she vanished from this plane.
Immediately, my world cooled and seemed less colorful. Shower and coffee were needed, before I became too morose. I stepped into the en-suite and stretched out, looking at myself in the mirror.
The trials and tribulations of the last few months had done little to scar my body, surprisingly. Even had a little more mass on my otherwise scrawny body. Times with Pearl around usually had me padding out, as otherwise I didn’t eat a lot when working. And I was always working when not picking up the bloodied pieces of my hubris.
My eyes had borne the brunt of a lot of the trauma. Even the better sleep as of late hadn’t worn away at the dark circles. There was something within them now—I had seen too much. Become too much. I rubbed at my dark beard, which was filling out. It fit my theme. At some point, my glasses had made it to my face, and the round lenses glinted crimson as I turned to the shower before taking them back off.
It ran hot and steam filled the room. I washed myself before allowing the sound of it to deafen me and separate me from the rest of the world. To just exist in this moment. Warmth enveloped me and I was falling. My eyes shot open as I lulled forward, placing my hand on the white tiles in a panic. That was enough showering.
Out. Dried. Dressed in a black dress shirt and dark gray slacks. I had more comfortable clothes now, but today was not going to be comfortable.
Well, that was perhaps a bit melodramatic - but I didn’t intend to sit and pine for Pearl. The Organization might be leaving me out in the cold in regards to new Quests, but I had my own agenda to dig up. My shovel was thirsty for dirt.
I opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. The size of the house was still something to get used to after being in the smaller one for a while. Along the left wall ahead of me, another white door opened, and a short figure stepped out.
Visually, a humanoid bird of dark black feathers with bright crimson circles for eyes. Small clawed hands at the end of his arms instead of wings. A sharp beak of black which picked up a slight deep blue hue in the light. My patron demon.
“Morning, Wight. Rest well?”
[It was acceptable.]
His deep and scratchy voice belied his demeanor, which seemed to switch between childlike wonder and eldritch threat. While patrons didn’t usually have the freedom that he did, Wight was definitely not like most pact demons.
“I’m thinking of doing some detective work after breakfast. You in?”
He tilted his feathered head and cupped his beak.
[Pass. I am going to the Org to pressure them into giving us work.]
I nodded. That was the second-best thing, but I didn’t feel much like going to that gloomy building. After my run-in with the Church, there had been an awkward silence between myself and my 'employer'. Not even a handshake for saving the city from the Deep Fiends spewing out from a portal. It was nice they gave me space to recover after the more traumatic Quests, but a little more communication wouldn’t go amiss.
“Thanks. We’re edging closer to getting to the Mids, and I don’t want them to bench me just because we foiled one plot.”
[You will be needed. They have little information about the god that is being raised beneath the city.]
Part of me had hoped to ignore that part of the gloomy sky on the horizon. While I had uncovered the plot of the demons, the Org hadn’t hit on any useful bit of information. None that we had been informed of, anyway. One would think ‘beneath the city’ would be enough of a clue where to look, but it was probably something more hidden than a sprawling evil lair.
“We’ll see.” I shrugged and went for the staircase. Coffee and pancakes sounded like the perfect way to start the day.
Wight followed behind me, his small feet padding down the crimson carpet softly. I wondered if Pearl had chosen this mansion due to the current decor - it seemed I couldn’t avoid the noir palette no matter where I went.
Down through the lobby, beside the living room where my recliner now sat, and into the dining room - where I found Rodney already sitting at the table. He had goggles over his eyes and was engraving runes into the barrel of the shotgun we had requisitioned from some devil I forget the name of. Unimportant now. The blue earring in his lobe was glowing, the rune inscribed on it occasionally pulsing.
As he noticed me in his periphery, he switched the tool off and scratched at his dirty-blonde hair with his free hand.
“Morning, Eric. Hope you don’t mind me doing this on the table, uh - the basement has terrible natural lighting.”
I waved my hand. “It’s fine. If you mess up the table, just tell Pearl I did it.”
[You two did ruin the last table.]
“Want to make us coffee, Wight?” I grimaced and tried to shoo him away from causing more embarrassment.
He looked as though he might want to say no, but plodded off to the kitchen, albeit with his head turned so
“Pearl is away for a couple of days, right?” Rodney yawned and brushed some of the metal shavings away. “You’re not going to drag us on more traumatic Quests?”
I clicked my tongue. It hadn’t been totally my fault that we’d gone through so much in those few short days. Mostly the one day. “Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to swing by your old place? Grab some of your stuff, do a little investigating…”
He pulled a face. We’d heard nothing from the police or the Org about his mother’s murder. Although the trail was cold, and he appeared to be fine to move on or put it to the back of his mind, I wasn’t about to take the silence as an answer. Some of the power Wight had granted me under the supervision of the Org’s ‘Level’ requirements had been shoehorned into detective-adjacent abilities. So I could let the demonic power fill in for my lack of natural talent.
“That sounds reasonable,” he said before sighing. “There’s some stuff I’d like to bring here.”
“You super sure about moving in properly?” I crossed my arms.
Rodney felt like family despite originally being an Org-assigned Blank - someone resistant to demonic influence. With his wide smile, I could see the spark of wanting to tempt fate in his eyes before his mouth even opened.
“Sure,” he nodded, “what’s the worst that could happen?”
2
A Hole in it
Fate had a funny way of catching up. It’d allow me to get ahead and allow me to delude myself into thinking I was no longer being pursued. Unfortunately for my tired legs, it was persistent. Any brief respite was just to trick me into thinking a life of normality was what I had earned for all that I’d suffered. I couldn’t, though. I was meant for more. More suffering.
I paid the cab driver with normal human money. A totally bland interaction for a man who had recently burst from the seams and become part demon, part divine. The driver didn’t seem to notice my internal screaming, which wasn’t as relieving as I’d hoped. Perhaps I wanted my call for help answered.
“You alright, Eric?” Rodney furrowed his brow at me. “Fares have gone up, but that’s why you should get your own car.”
My eyes blinked, and I refocused. “You don’t drive either.”
“I also don’t stare at cab drivers like they murdered my…” His eyes turned back to his home. Where his mother had been murdered. “Huh. You didn’t get his name, perchance?” He gave me a grim smile and walked toward the door.
His use of perchance was slightly more concerning than his matter-of-fact attitude toward his mother’s death. We all dealt with loss in different ways, and his way was a lot healthier than my own when my family had been murdered, so I couldn’t judge. He had support around him that I never did. For the most part, he kept a stiff upper lip around me, but I’d overheard him pouring it all out with Pearl comforting him a couple of times. We all bled, in some way.
The Blank unlocked the door, and we stepped inside. Immediately, the soft comfort of a real home washed over me. A place so cherished and well-lived-in, it made my heart ache that he had been staying here despite her death.
“I’m going to get a suitcase from upstairs and pack some clothes. Make yourself at home, just don’t do anything…” He paused on the first step up to the next floor. “…Weird.”
I opened and closed my mouth, but all I could manage was, “Okay.”
What weird could I possibly even accomplish? I walked into the small living room where she had been killed and put my hands on my hips. Worked my jaw. Everything was pristine. Rodney had been using his idle time to clean and tidy. Trying to accomplish some mental satiety, perhaps. I stared at the carpet, and it returned silent judgement. Detective work was difficult as shit.
With a sigh, I pushed my glasses up and activated Detect. My vision faded to monochrome, able to see life in all its noir glory. I turned to take everything in. Probably way too late to see any residual demonic energy - but there was something interesting.
Blue.
Usually, the skill would bring up things in red to complete the picture, generally something with demonic power or of particular interest to me. Judging by the light hue in here, and the trail of blue leading upstairs, it seemed like it picked up divine energy now, too. Not that it helped with my current search.
After almost seven seconds, normal vision returned, and I was no more enlightened than before. Perhaps I wasn’t cut out for this after all. Without Wight here to bounce ideas off, I felt a little out of place. A tool useful only for beating in nails in Hell, but nothing much beyond that. Well, Pearl might disagree, but…
I paused and furrowed my brow. Looking at the pictures lining the wall, all the happy faces of Rodney and his mother throughout the years… I heard him come down the stairs, lugging a heavy case.
“Hey, Rods,” I gestured for him to come in. “One of these pictures is off.”
“Huh?” He tilted his head. “Oh, you’re right… That’s odd. I hadn’t noticed - was it always like that?”
At a quick glance, the frames looked sporadic and equally aligned along the wall. But there was a pattern, and one of them was breaking it. Only by a small amount, but enough to be obvious if you knew what you were looking for. I didn’t, but I didn’t let luck get in the way of progress.
Gently, I grasped the frame and lifted it from the wall.
There was a hole. Maybe not much wider than a finger-width. It cored through the brickwork and out into the beyond, eventually.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
The hole was angled to the point where I didn’t need a better picture to join the dots together. Gunther, the Hunter with a sniper rifle, was a possible culprit. There were loose threads that could tie him to it. Enough that I wanted to tug and see if I could wrap them around his neck. A weaker shot, perhaps? It wasn’t as wide as the ammunition I had seen him use previously.
“I don’t know if it was Gunther, or even a Hunter at all…” Angered thoughts of the Org being responsible cracked at my cool mood, ice giving off steam as it melted away. “But that seems like a good place to start.”
I raised an eyebrow at the Blank. He didn’t look okay. My arm raised, and he came in for a hug. Guilt riddled at me for pulling the curtain back while he was here. Intent on shining the light on the whole event, I had just blinded him.
“Here,” I said, giving him a pat on the back. “I’ll help you pack, and we’ll get going.”
“Thanks, Eric.” He pulled away, and we set about scouring the place for whatever he wanted.
I tried not to look at the real world too much as the next cab took us back to the mansion. The thicker my lungs felt with the weight of my profession, the less I cared to see everything I couldn’t have. A normal life. I had a weird reflection of it, sure… I had love and friends. But there was no real rest, even in the times when the Org ignored me as I recovered. There were demons that needed killing, always.
There was no returning home from a hard day at the office of boring meetings or quarterly reports to turn off for the weekend. Have a beer and watch TV, walk in the park with a human wife, and just exist for the fun of it. My best friends were another Org employee and a demon who was bound to me. My lover was a powerful demon whom I’d somehow charmed into a normal relationship. A week ago, I had wings.
I paid this cab driver in the same manner, this time practiced in my efforts. I smiled. He took a glance at my outfit, and then beyond to the house.
“Enjoy your party,” he grinned.
He pulled away down the drive, and I gave Rodney a shrug, taking one of his luggage handles.
“I hate to ask this kinda thing, Eric… But, we aren’t in danger of any little Erics running around in the near future?”
“No.” I pulled a face at him, the answer already leaving my mouth before I had fully wrapped my mind around it. “For three reasons. Demons and humans can’t make babies like that, no matter how much they try.”
“Gross.” He rolled his eyes.
“Second, Org mandates the snip. Too many risks to allow us lunatics to breed. And third, it’s just a terrible idea considering I might die at any point on any day. Even right now.”
