“No, stop, stop! Please.” Mateo attempted to get up but quickly resumed his fetal position when he saw Jolie adjust the taser. “Just don’t touch my statues. What do you want?”
“The truth. Why and how are you doing this?”
“I need them, Ophelia. You don’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“I…” he started and then stopped, clearly at a loss to explain himself. Ophelia started to push on the statue of the woman with the wild curls.
“Start talking, Mateo. I’m getting antsy.”
“Fine. I’m a pathokinesis, and my gift was starting to wear off. I don’t know why, but it was. It has been for a while. And…and I started feeding off the souls of magical women. They boosted my abilities so I could become stronger.”
“How did you do it?”
“I seduced them. There’s a beautiful moment when a woman orgasms, and she lets herself go…” Mateo looked wistful. “It’s in that moment that the soul is so easy to take, so easy to feed off of and transfer to my sculptures. I’m really that talented, though. These sculptures were done by me. I am a true artist.” He said the last part proudly.
“Rightttt,” said Jolie, rolling her eyes.
“How did you know these women were magical?” Ophelia pressed.
He stayed silent, but with another shove from Ophelia, the statue swayed. “I have a necklace that tells me,” he said quickly. “It’s ugly as sin, though. I keep it in my wallet.”
“Give me your wallet,” Ophelia demanded.
“What is the point of this, Ophelia? You can’t tell anyone.They’d think you’re insane, and you know it. Let’s make a deal. I’ll destroy your statue and let you go. No harm done.”
“Give it to me!” she yelled and placed both hands on the statue.
He grabbed his wallet out of his front pocket, wincing in pain as he moved to a seated position. He took out the cross necklace and threw it at her. Ophelia picked it up, examining the medieval design. Her eyes rounded in shock.
It was the exact same cross that her attacker in New York wore. The exact.
“Where did you get this?” she demanded.
“I bought it on the black market,” he said, as if it was obvious.
Ophelia scoffed. “Are you for real?”
“Yeah?”
“God, you’re such a fake. You know, I wondered at times if you were the Cutthroat Killer, but I haven’t been able to piece it together. You have this cross, which is pretty damning. You also have this whole soul-sucking operation going on, which makes me think you are likely capable of killing someone. But it doesn’t add up. You have a type. Magical women of a certain age and attractiveness. The Cutthroat Killer’s victims are all over the place.”
“Really?” he asked in disgust. “The Cutthroat Killer? Me?”
“Why not?”
“’Cause I’m pretty fucking busy doing this shit.” He threw his hands up in exasperation.
“You were in the Quarter the night Lauren Cash was killed. She was young and pretty. Perhaps things didn’t go your way, and you turned her into a different kind of victim.”
“I was out partying that night. After I saw you, I knew I needed to play the long game, so I fuckedherthat night instead,” he said, nodding to a statue in the far right of the room.
“Either way, I guess it doesn’t really matter. Does it, Jo?”
“Nope, he’s gotta go regardless.”
Mateo’s eyes bounced between the two Oubre sisters. “There’s nothing you can do. Let’s just move on. I’ll destroy Ophelia’s statue right now. You can watch me do it.” He started to stand.
