The book isn’t written in any language that I can understand. It seems like an alphabet of sorts, but not one that I’ve ever seen before. It curls in places you’d expect it to be straight, and has jagged corners where it seems like it shouldn’t.

This must be the language of the Dark Dimension.

The Fool pours over the text, his fingertip tracing over weathered pages as he murmurs to himself, flipping pages back and forth feverishly. Chloe, interested at first, has slumped into a chair with her hair fallen over her face. She seems to have fallen into a light doze.

Perhaps most interesting is The Other. He pays no attention to the book at all. As soon as he could, he disappeared to the bathroom. He returned fifteen minutes later in a new outfit and thoroughly cleaned of blood. Despite his insistence that he got the clothes without harming a soul, I can’t help but be suspicious.

He sits, swinging on his chair and staring at the ceiling.

“Why aren’t you helping The Fool?” I ask, folding my arms and giving him my best scowl.

He doesn’t look away from the ceiling. “Can’t read, love.”

“Really. But you can play computer games?”

“Yup.”

The Fool sighs. “He means he cannot read this script. It is only taught to the Arcana and their acolytes.”

The Other gives The Fool the finger guns and a bright grin, glancing at me quickly before looking away again. I feel somewhat guilty.

“In any case, even without The Other’s help, I’ve identified our destination,” The Fool says, looking up from the book. He gently rests a hand on Chloe’s shoulder and she blinks awake, clearly embarrassed from having fallen asleep.

“Great. Where is it? Somewhere hot, I hope, Father,” The Other says, putting all four chair legs back on the ground. “The Malignant doesn’t do well in dry heat.”

The Fool shakes his head. “The locations are not those kinds of places. They exist outside of what we perceive of as a place. They are… ideas. Suggestions of vibe I suppose you could say.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Well, for example, the first one is located in places that humans attach to fun and joy, the exhilaration of being alive,” The Fool explains. “Somewhere that gets their adrenaline going.”

I begin to understand. “So, if we go somewhere that people associate that with, we’ll be able to find the object.”

“Yes, I’ll be able to form a portal to gain access to the item,” The Fool confirms, closing the book and taking it back to the cupboard to lock away.

“But where on earth would that be?” Chloe asks, rubbing her right eye as she yawns. “There are loads of places like that. Are they all strong enough to be able to get this thing?”

“No,” The Fool says, turning the key in the lock with a satisfying click. “And we must choose wisely. Any amount of time spent outside the walls of a Sanctuary could see us at The Malignant’s mercy.”

I shudder.

“Theme park,” The Other drawls, getting to his feet. “Where’s the nearest theme park?”

Chloe grimaces, looking between me and The Fool a few times before she expresses her thoughts. “I do not want to be in a theme park being hunted by those things. That’s horror movie bullshit.”

I can’t help but agree with her there.

“If we go when the park is open, we run too much of a risk of spreading The Malignant’s power if The Maligned do indeed find us there. We will have to go at night,” he says.

“See, I’m liking this even less. Soren?”

I don’t know why she’s appealing to me. In all of this, I’m the one who has done nothing except make things worse. If The Fool believes that this is what we should do, then perhaps it is the best way to do it.

“We can enter just before closing time and wait it out,” I say finally, reaching for my coat. “My only issue is how we’re going to get there. It’s outside the city, and we won’t be able to walk there.”

“I have a car, Soren,” The Fool says, looking amused. “Wait, have you been travelling around on public transport?”

Chloe and I both shift uncomfortably.

“They’re broke,” The Other chips in, getting to his feet finally. He smooths off his new shirt, a black button-up, and sticks his hands into his jeans pocket. “So I hope the church pays you well enough to get us in the park as well, Father.”

The Fool pinches the bridge of his nose, but doesn’t comment, instead ushering us into our coats and out of a fire exit towards the parking lot.

Our ride turns out to be an old Rover 200 and it only has three doors. The Fool releases the passenger seat, gesturing for me to squeeze inside. I clamber in, crawling over to the driver’s side where my knees press hard against the cheap fabric of the seat in front of me. Just when I think it can’t get any worse, The Other climbs in after me, securing us both in the backseat for the journey.

“Want to help me put my seatbelt on again, love?” The Other teases, holding his hands up as though to let me.

My face heats. “Piss off.”

I busy myself putting my own seatbelt on, ignoring The Other, Chloe and The Fool as they all settle into their seats in the car. When the engine starts, music starts to blare through the car. Eleanor Rigby deafens me at first, before The Fool turns it down.

“Ah, sorry. I was having a bit of a sing-along on my way to work this morning,” The Fool says as he swivels in his chair to reverse out of the parking space.

“It’s a good song,” Chloe says, smiling at The Fool.

I’m almost jealous of the good relationship that she has with her contracted other. She certainly doesn’t seem to bear him any ill-will from the contract.

“You know, calling you The Fool is kinda long and impersonal. I bet you didn’t go by that as a priest,” Chloe continues.

The Other is watching her intently, his dark eyes boring into the back of her head. I wonder what has caught his attention so fiercely in a conversation that is seemingly meaningless small talk.

“You are correct, I did not,” The Fool says, straightening out the car and starting us on our way. “Feel free to give me a nickname if you prefer.”

The Other leans forward, just a little. For the first time, I see the sharp, serated edges of his second set of teeth dropping without the accompanying smile. He appears to be holding his breath.

“How about Rigby?” Chloe jokes, turning to The Fool to see his reaction.

The Fool glances into the rearview mirror. His eyes are not on me though. He is watching The Other.

“I’ll accept that name.”

The Other meets his eyes in the mirror, then sags back against his seat, turning to face the window and blocks us all out for the rest of the journey.

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