He took four steps and saw her. A girl. Eighteen or nineteen years, at most. Thin and with the hair turned and long to the chest. Almond eyes, fleshy lips, very marked cheekbones and straight nose and much finer than most black ones he had seen. Beautifulness… With all the panic that shook his face. The butchery began just below the sternum.Matinada, Zona Franca of Barcelona. On the radio of Lluís Artigas’ patrol car there is a 10-50 sound: Someone has picked it up. The victim turns out to be a brutally murdered Nigerian girl following what turns out to be a voodoo ritual. Artigas, a burned agent suspected of being corrupt, will undertake an unexpected search for those responsible for this crime. On the night of Damballah, a magically written novel, with the narrative pulse of the classics of the genre, with the ironic tone and harsh, cynical sometimes, incisive always of the best narrators of the black novel, more in the street, Jordi Solé shows us a skimmed and fatty Barcelona for which they pulsate characters in which we do not always reparate, headed by a policeman, Lluís Artigas, called to become a mythical antihero, and confirms us as one of the most excellent voices in our narrative landscape.