Dressed in only boxers and T-shirt, Delphia was shaving in the washstand with the complimentary free soap and a cheap razor. His wounds were still sore as hell, but for a man who’d been shot a half a dozen times only hours ago, he was doing fine. All the way here, Moonfeather sang a healing song over him, and as they pulled the Elite into the parking lot of the north Miami Domino Motel he stumbled out with the others on his own feet. Starving, but alive. Gods, was he hungry!