Haley Thistle
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The Veils Island: Part Two (special preview)
🕑 Added 2022-04-16 21:01:00 +0000 UTC“What would you call this place?”
Lang smiled, sitting across from me at a table no bigger than a side table. “Is that really the first thing you wish to ask me, Mr. Eccles?”
His humble apartment is even smaller than the quarters I was given, but there was so much I could explore within it. The way he dressed and looked upon our first meeting suggested he was a carefully placed sort of person. His apartment suggested that he was a man of comfort. His bed was lived in, disheveled. His lone bookshelf was overflowing with banged up spines, dog eared pages, and precariously placed bits of knick knacks and toiletries. By appearances, Lang was even more human than I.
I chuckled, looking down at my notepad which I had painstakingly written out various questions. “This isn’t about me, Lang. I’m here to interview you.” I smiled at him, wearing that perfect face I always did during interviews. I had to wear the mask and play the part, or else everything could fall apart. I had to be perfect, had to appear impartial, or I may not get my answer.
“You’re still part of it.” Lang’s smile was neither nefarious or welcoming. It existed upon his face the same way it did a snake or panther. “And I brought you here, for a very specific reason, Mr. Eccles.”
I didn’t want to give anything away, but that comment made my head turn just slightly.
Lang leaned forward on the tiny table. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” He pointed a long finger at me. “Why me?” His smile grew and those pale blue eyes sharpened. “Why the son of the man who knowingly killed a Veil first? Why the journalist who supposedly wrote the book on Veils?” He looked me up and down as my heart began to race. “Is it because of those things? Or do I have something a bit more underhanded at play?”
I swallowed. He saw through the mask, no one ever saw through the mask. I was unprepared for this, and I knew better. This wasn’t the usual interview, or even the usual person. Lang was a delicate topic and a volatile person. Even Verge, the Veils rights group, was afraid to touch him.
Lang laughed as he leaned back, throwing one arm over the back of his chair while crossing his long, elegant legs. “It’s nothing underhanded, Mr. Eccles. I am a long time admirer of your work. You and your brother both.”
My stomach churned and I placed both palms upon the table. The topic of my brother was just as sensitive for me. “I see,” I managed to breathe. “It’s nice to hear that.”
Lang watched me, his gaze I now knew was more perceptive than most. “I will answer your question if you ask me the real question, Mr. Eccles. Do me that courtesy.”
I rubbed at my jaw before facing him again. I tried to put back on the mask of the professional journalist, but it just didn’t fit like it should. There was no reason to wear it here anyways, Lang already knew it was fake.
“Why me, Lang?” the stillness of the room and of Lang himself unnerved me. I swallowed before speaking again, trying to keep myself from being the only thing moving in that space.
“Surely there must be others who could have served your purpose better?”
Lang’s head tilted to the side. “And what is my purpose?”
My mouth was open but no words came out.
“I understand how I must be seen by the outside world. I’m sure me and my people are just perfect for the twenty-four hour news cycle. I distract from the real problems facing humanity. I’m a villain they can all come together over. Me and my island, we’re a terrifying bedtime story for children. But that is not my purpose here. Assume everything you want about me, I just ask the Veils I protect to be left out of this.”
“Is that what you think you’re doing?” I asked.
