Delilah Recovered **2017 Watty Winner**

chapter ten

Perched on two ornate giant royal blue velvet and gold thrones, Dee and Jonathan were waiting for Mahai at his antique store. The Golden Triangle wasn't the usual hodgepodge of other people's junk. It was like a carefully curated museum. Each piece was expertly placed in a collection and lit like fine art.

Dee read the placard out loud. "French Baroque, wedding chairs. Cira, early 1800s. $139,000." She quickly hopped off the chair. "I don't think I want to risk breaking something I'll never be able to buy."

Jonathan was distracted by his phone. "So Melia is your ex?" Dee inquired, trying to get his attention.

His head shot up at the mention of her name. "Yes. We broke up a while ago," Jonathan said, looking around. "When we're together, bad things happen."

"Habibi," a man called out as he walked toward them.

Jonathan jumped off his throne and ran over to him. "Mahai."

The two men wrapped their hands around the inside of their elbows, shook their arms three times, and touched foreheads. "Peace be upon you, my dearest boy," Mahai, said.

"Peace be to you, my uncle," Jonathan replied.

Mahai released Jonathan's arm. He then pulled him into an embrace, lifting him off the ground and shaking his body like a rattle. He put him down and took Jonathan's face in his hands. Looking deeply into his eyes, "Clear eyes, bravo my child."

He pounded his fist against Jonathan's chest, "Your heart is full. No more demons chasing you. I rejoice that you no longer expose yourself to such bad things."

He released Jonathan and turned to Dee. "My lady, Mahai Symeon Nicolae Andri, and your faithful servant."

"The Lyft driver?" Dee asked, suddenly recognizing him. The man who stood before her looked the part of a king, as he claimed when they first met. With his black plaid suit, starch white shirt relieving a hint of an outline of the tattoo on his chest, a bright pink rose pinned in his buttonhole on his lapel. She was struck by his lively, clear eyes, warm olive skin with a hint of stubble, and cropped dark hair.

Looking into her eyes, Mahai took her hand and kissed it. "I do whatever work is needed, my lady."

He was dashing. Dee found herself grinning and giggling like a teenager with a crush.

Mahai pointed to the back of the showroom. "Come, my children, tell me how I may serve you." He led them through the store. It was filled with wonders from around the world.

They stopped at a wall in the back. Mahai pressed on a painting of crest, and it opened. They stepped into his sparse office. With bare walls, it was a crimson box with matching walls and carpet. The center of the room was a large black lacquer desk sitting on a circular oriental rug.

Mahai put his hand on Dee's arm. "Please, my child, rest your feet. I see that your spirit has not caught up to your body, and it is making you so very weary."

The chair was so plush she sank into it. Mahai's desk had a large leather pad with a series of daggers with brass handles shaped like scorpions lined across it. Dee found that Mahai quickly cast a spell on her. She was in his thrall. If he had told her to jump into the Chicago River, she would've said yes. And Jonathan was right there with her, with a wild, silly smile on his face.

"We have a translation that we were hoping you could help us with," Jonathan explained. He nodded at Dee. She pulled out a copy of the D'Arc grimoire page from her purse and handed it to Mahai.

He put on a pair of glasses with clear frames resting them on the tip of his nose. He reviewed the page. He removed his glasses and folded his hands on his desk. "It's from the time of King Solomon. He had created a language using a mixture of Hebrew and Greek. This language is ancient, as you can imagine."

Jonathan sat on the edge of his seat, "Can you translate it?"

Mahai smiled, taking off his glassing smiling kindly at Jonathan. "I know of only one person who can. She is a professor of ancient languages at the University of Chicago."

Jonathan stood up, snatching the paper from Mahai. "No." He folded the paper and stuffed it into his pocket. "We'll find someone else. Anyone else."

"My son, she is the expert," Mahai said in a soothing voice. "She knows more dead languages than even the dead."

"Who?" Dee asked.

"Melia," Jonathan replied as he charged toward the door.

"Come now, my son. Enough time has passed, no," Mahai called after him.

Dee turned to Mahai. "What can you do? They have a complex relationship. She's the only one I know who can assist you in your journey," he said.

She smiled at him. "Thank you for your help."

Mahai shrugged and nodded at the door, signaling that their meeting was over.

When she caught up to Jonathan, he was pacing the sidewalk. Dee placed her hands on his shoulders, "Look, there's so much I don't understand. Nothing makes any kind of sense to me right now. But whatever is going on here, we can figure it out. Together."

Jonathan pulled away from her. "Four years ago, I was in a bad place." Shaking his head, she could see that he was trying to push back the tears.

Dee took his face in her hands. "You don't have to tell me anything or explain anything you don't want to. Okay?"

"Delilah, our powers can do strange things to us. Sometimes, it's easier blocking it all out than trying to deal with it. Do you know what I mean?" He said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"I am not sure that I do, but I want to understand."

Jonathan let out the breath he was holding. "I was an addict. I mean, I'm a heroin addict. I'll always be one."

Dee remained silent, giving him the space he needed to finish telling her his story.

"Mahai helped get me clean. He tried to help both of us. For me, it stuck. But Melia kept on using. She never had any intention of stopping."

Jonathan sat down on the curb, and Dee joined him. The street was quiet. The store was on one of those small hidden streets lined in bricks. Jonathan took Delilah's hand in his. His hands were capable and warm. As they sat together, she felt like she had known him forever. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Jonathan looked down and gave her a tender smile.

"Delilah, my job here is to help you find the truth. I can't let my shit get in the way of that," he said, squeezing her hand.

Dee stood up, offering him her hand. "Before we track down your mysterious ex, can we get a pizza or something? I'm starving."

He took it, and she pulled him up onto his feet. "I got you. I know the best place."

"Don't we all?" she said, teasing him. "Maybe my place is better than yours."

"You'll just have to trust me on this one."