My Best Friend is an Eldritch Horror - Chapter 29 (Patreon)

As it turned out, that was harder than it sounded. Damien walked past dozens of doors leading to cultivation methods that involved cooking, cleaning, juggling, and an assortment of other equally mundane tasks that Henry scoffed at.

“Look over there,” Henry instructed Damien, forcing the boy to turn his head slightly to the side. Really, it was more of a nudge. The contract stopped him from forcibly taking control of the boy’s body, but giving it suggestions before Damien could counter them was still on the table.

Stop that! It’s unsettling when my head turns and I’m not the one who turned it.

“Now stop whining and look!”

“Repetition?” Damien said aloud, drawing glances from the people studying around him. He winced, ducking his head, and gave them a sheepish grin while a blush started to spread to his cheeks.

“Exactly,” Henry said. “Now that would be perfect.”

Why? It sounds… really boring.

“Go look. The method I personally use could be boiled down to repetition if I did a lot of simplifying. Trust me, it’s not anywhere near as bad as meditation,” Henry said with a groan. “Could you imagine sitting around for half your life, eyes closed and gathering energy? Ugh. Who would torture themselves like that?”

Fine, fine.

Damien reached the door. It was the same dull brown wood as the rest of them, with a plain grey metal handle. The hinges let out a small squeak as he pushed it open and stepped inside.

The room he’d stepped into was only large enough for a few people to fit in it at once. There was a single desk with two chairs in the center, and all four walls were lined with bookcases that were only around half full. A few books had been stacked on the table, but nobody else was in the room.

Damien approached one of the shelves, letting the door swing shut behind him. It made another squeak before closing with a click.

“How do I know which one to take?” Damien asked.

“Let me out so I can read them.”

“No! What if someone walked in?” Damien hissed.

“Fine. Then let me use your body for a minute or two. Unless you want to spend the rest of the day reading these,” Henry said.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Damien said, frowning. “I’m not keen on giving you control over my body. I haven’t forgotten what happened the last time I did.”

“We have a contract!” Henry said irritably. “I can’t do anything you don’t want me to, and you can take control back whenever you want.”

Damien chewed his inner cheek.

“You can have it for exactly five minutes or until someone walks in. After that, it returns to me, no matter the situation.”

Damien’s limbs stiffened. It took all his self-control not to shove Henry back and regain control of his body. He couldn’t even take a slow breath to steady himself, which made things even worse.

“Calm down,” Henry snapped. “Try to move your left hand.”

Damien’s hand twitched and he felt Henry’s presence recede for a moment before filling him once again.

“See? The moment you try to actually do something, I get booted out,” Henry said. “Now –”

Damien snapped his fingers. His consciousness rushed forth once again, tossing Henry into the background once again. The boy wiggled his fingers and rolled his neck.

“What was that for?” Henry asked, mentally poking Damien.

“Just making sure,” Damien replied. “You’ve got five minutes.”

He allowed the eldritch creature to regain control of his body. It was still unsettling, but it wasn’t as bad this time around. The knowledge that he could take the reigns back whenever he wanted was reassuring.

Henry grumbled out curses as he picked up the book on the table with Damien’s body and scanned the cover.

“Trash,” Damien-Henry said, setting the book back down and glancing at the other one before rolling his eyes.

Henry directed Damien over to the bookshelf on the far left wall. He raised a hand and barked out a string of guttural, hissing noises. The lights in the room dimmed. Inky black tendrils twisted through the air around the boy, straightening out and snapping into straight lines.

The lines twitched and opened outwards, revealing pale white and black eyes. They turned towards the bookshelves and moved in erratic patterns, stopping in front of each book before zipping back into motion.

Damien couldn’t tell what they saw, and he didn’t particularly care. He was more preoccupied with the worry that someone would walk through the door while disembodied eyes floated around the room.

It turned out that Henry only needed two minutes to examine every book in the room. The eyes disappeared with a series of pops. Damien’s body walked around the room, pulling books from the shelves and tossing them onto the table without even looking at the titles.

By the time he’d finished, there was a pile of ten books on the table. Henry sat Damien down in the chair and relinquished control of the body back to its rightful owner.

“There. See?” Henry said. “Easy and fast. I found ten books that were both in the common tongue and actually useful. The others either didn’t suite you or were worthless.”

“Thank you,” Damien said, lifting the first book from the pile. It leather, with a gold trim that was peeling away from the edges. “How do I know which one is the best?”

“There is no best,” Henry replied. “It’s just a method, and they’re all so basic that you won’t find a difference. However, everyone is going to have a method that’s more suited to them. You need to choose what fits you best.”

“I see,” Damien said, looking down at the book in his hands with a furrowed brow. “And how is ‘constant love making’ supposed to fit me as a person?”

Henry cackled as Damien rolled his eyes and set the book on the far side of the table.