Chapter 25 Marrow Secrets #3
My first instinct was to shake him awake, but years of watching ER dramas had taught me better. Instead, I hovered at the edge of his bed, my hands floating above his skin as if mere proximity could heal him.
“Mateo, baby, can you hear me?” My own breath sounded strange in my ears: higher, thinner, like it belonged to someone else.
He didn’t answer. He jerked away from my touch, face scrunching like he was fighting something in a dream. His lips moved. At first, I caught fragments: “don’t,” “wait,” something about a door. Then the cadence changed. The syllables sharpened, structured, nothing like sleep-talk.
Behind me, Aiden’s footsteps echoed down the hall. He stopped in the doorway, and somehow the room shrank around him.
“He’s burning up,” I said, barely recognizing my own voice. “He wasn’t sick… he was fine, he was fine…”
My hand trembled as I pressed my palm to Mateo’s forehead again. The heat snapped at my skin, forcing me to pull back.
Aiden approached like Mateo was a wild thing that might bolt, crouching beside me with deliberate, measured movements. “What’s he saying?” he asked, kneeling beside me.
“I don’t know,” I choked out as panic sharpened every sound. “It’s not English. It’s not Spanish. Maybe it’s…”
I was about to say ‘gibberish,’ but the word stuck in my throat because it wasn’t. The words were too measured, too rhythmic.
Aiden’s eyes narrowed as he bent closer. His expression shifted from concern to something darker, recognition.
“That’s not gibberish. That’s…” He broke off, pulling away in shock. “He’s speaking the Old Tongue.”
“What does that mean?” I demanded. “Is it like a seizure? Is this… God… possession? Is that what this is?”
Every horror story I’d laughed off as superstition came clawing back to life.
He shook his head, jaw tight.
“It’s not possession.” His hands moved instinctively, tucking the blanket around Mateo.
“Er en kemet… that’s Old Tongue. The Old Old Tongue.
Ancient Source dialect, older than High Fae, older than anything that should be coming out of a human mouth.
” He paused. “Only beings with direct access to the Source can understand it.”
My pulse stuttered. “Aiden, he’s eleven.”
“I know.” His voice broke just enough to scare me.
Before I could press him, Mateo’s eyes snapped open.
He looked at me. For half a second, it was Mateo: confused, feverish. Then something moved behind his eyes. Something older, something colder stared back at me through my son’s face. His eyes glowed with an eerie translucence, like cloudy marble veined with gold.
He spoke a single phrase in harsh, staccato syllables, then went limp. The flush on his face was instantly replaced by a waxy pallor that made my heart freeze.
“Mateo!” I shouted, grabbing for his hand. It was clammy, the pulse fluttering like a caged bird. “What the hell is happening to him?”
Aiden hovered over us, grim and helpless. “He’s not just reacting to something,” Aiden said softly. “He’s part of it. This shouldn’t be possible.”
I didn’t care about what was possible. I cared about my son and how his breathing had slowed to a shallow, shuddering gasp. I fumbled for my phone.
Should I call 911? What would I even tell them? My kid is possessed by the ghost of a dead language. Please send help, and maybe an exorcist?
“I’m taking him to the ER.” My voice broke, the desperation bleeding through every syllable.
Aiden shook his head. “You’ll waste time,” he said. “And risk more exposure. No human doctor will be able to explain this away. If it’s the Source, normal medicine won’t do anything…” he paused for a beat. “But I might know someone who can help. Or at least she’ll know what to do.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You swear?”
“With my life.”
Those words struck deep. I looked down at Mateo, his breath coming in shallow, heat radiating off him like a furnace.
My fingers trembled. I felt like I was signing a deal with something bigger than I could name, but I nodded. “Fine. Call her.”
He half-turned, already reaching for his own phone. “Just stay with him,” he said.
I wrapped both hands around Mateo’s arm, willing my own heat into him, my own stubbornness, my own refusal to let go. I pressed my forehead to his and whispered promises I didn’t know how to keep.
Behind me, I could hear Aiden speaking rapidly into the phone, his tone tight with urgency. “It’s Mateo. He’s not well… something’s wrong. I need you to come, please.”
Each word was laced with a desperate edge, a plea that echoed in the tense air. Mateo shuddered again, his eyelids fluttering. I held on tighter, counting down the seconds, praying that if I just loved him hard enough, I could drag him back out.
Aiden crouched beside me then, close enough for our shoulders to touch.
“He’s strong,” he said quietly. “Stronger than you think. Just don’t leave him alone, not for a second.”
I nodded, my jaw tight, holding back the tears that threatened to spill until there was a reason to let them flow.
“I won’t. I never do.”
Aiden’s voice was a gentle balm, wrapping around me like a promise.
“He’ll be okay,” he murmured, leaning closer, his hand warm against mine.
A flicker of hope ignited within me, a desperate wish for anything that could bring Mateo back, whole and safe in my arms. I craved that belief, clung to it like a lifeline. But as my gaze drifted to the shadowy skyline outside, a chill crept through me, whispering that this was only the beginning.
How far was I prepared to go?
The answer loomed large and undeniable.
All the way.