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on the New Orleans angle and an old photograph I got with my spell, I thought there might be a connection to Papa Danwe.”
    â€œIndeed there is. Papa Danwe was one of Saint-Germaine’s inner circle. He’d come to New Orleans with her from Haiti, after the slave revolt. He murdered her in 1854.”
    â€œKnew she was murdered, didn’t know Papa Danwe did it.”
    Rashan shrugged. “It was something everyone knew and no one could prove. Not that anyone would have done anything about it anyway. Survival of the fittest.”
    â€œSo I figure, we can put the soul jar at the scene of Jamal’s murder. We can connect Papa Danwe to the jar’s previous owner. He’s got the juice, so he had the means and opportunity.”
    â€œYour theory is tenuous and circumstantial at best,” Rashan said. I started to protest, but he waved me off. “That doesn’t mean you’re not right.”
    â€œYeah, but it doesn’t make any sense. Jamal was good at what he did, but his talents were pretty much limited to tagging. I can’t see how he had enough juice that the Haitian would get anything from squeezing him.”
    Rashan shook his head. “There are very few instances in which you would squeeze a sorcerer for power. Any sorcerer strong enough to do it wouldn’t gain anything from doing it, just as you suggest. The usual exception is a group of sorcerers or coven that works together to squeeze a more powerful magician and divides the spoils amongst themselves. In any event, there are much easier ways to acquire power.” Rashan gestured expansively at the strip club. The club was a juice box, and like I said before, Rashan’s lips were on the straw.
    â€œThen what’s the point of squeezing a guy? I guess I wouldn’t call it common, exactly, but it does happen. Everyone knows about it.”
    â€œYou squeeze a guy not to procure power in the abstract. As you say, Jamal had precious little of that. You squeeze him to steal his specific power, his unique arcane talent and craft. You take another sorcerer’s juice, it isn’t like taking it from a tag or a line. It’s his juice. You squeeze him to make it yours.”
    This was all news to me. “So, Jamal was a tagger. You’re saying Papa Danwe squeezed him to steal his way of doing graffiti magic.”
    Rashan nodded. “There can be no other explanation.”
    â€œBut why? Jamal was good, okay, but he’s not the only tagger in town. It seems like it’d be a lot easier to just recruit a guy, even if he needed a little training. Why take the risk of hitting a connected guy?”
    â€œTwo connected guys,” Rashan corrected, “which is why I called you in. Jimmy Lee’s body was found floating in a storm runoff this morning.”
    I’d been expecting another body to turn up, but I hadn’t been expecting it so soon. “Damn,” I said. “No skin?” Rashan nodded.
    â€œI don’t know this guy, boss. What was his thing? Another tagger?”
    â€œNo. Jimmy Lee was a warder—defensive magic. He designed protections, locks, alarms, minor defensive spells, that kind of thing.”
    I arched my eyebrows. “Important stuff?”
    Rashan shook his head. “No, in that respect, Jimmy Lee was rather like Jamal. A valuable asset, but not a critical one.”
    â€œIt’s a pattern,” I said. “Jamal was a tagger. He tapped and flowed juice on the outfit’s territory. Jimmy Lee was a defensive guy. Put the two together. Papa Danwe is going after our defenses. He’s making a move.”
    â€œIt is the beginning of a pattern, Dominica. Tragically I expect there will be more bodies, and with each one, more of the pattern will be revealed.”
    â€œBoth of the victims’ names begin with J, ” I suggested. “Jamal’s last name is James and Jimmy is short for James.”
    Rashan just looked at