Veil #2

written by Greg Rucka
art by Toni Fejzula

And so we get something of an explanation...with no explanation at all.  We do meet the architects of Veil's summoning, a power-hungry suit Scarborough—a politician perhaps—and shady practitioner of the arcane Cormac.  Following a ritual with five human sacrifices, one for each of the five points of the pentangle, the occult circle luminesces a little under Cormac's boot, an indication of success, but the woman summoned may have arrived in another place or time, a disappointing result for his employer.

Veil is intriguingly opaque about the temporal sequencing of events, and structurally of panels.  Like the opening of a Nicolas Roeg film, Rucka and Fejzula present an impressionistic collage of visual details with little information to contextualize them.  Veil is fueled by suggestion and often unspoken possibility.

Rucka's mysteries may be the lure, but the increasingly complicated and increasingly close relationship between Veil and Dante is the hook.  She is simultaneously innocent and yet entirely equipped to protect herself against an unrelenting series of predators in various guises.  He's simultaneously aware of his own more predatory instincts even as his better nature and sincere kindness guide his actions.

Dante:  "You come walking down the street, anyone with a pulse likes you!  You do it naked, what'd you expect?"

Veil:  "That's not my fault.  That's...that's just how I was.  It's just what I am."  (Veil #2: 7)

Her understanding of his attraction is incomplete, but she shows some signs—and not just declarations perhaps unintentionally pregnant with sexual potential—that it is reciprocated.  In the moment she knows and rejects unwanted physical contact and recognizes the difference between innocuous and violating touching.  As he becomes entangled in her conspiracy and she escapes after killing a predatory cop, theirs is a partnership worth sticking around for.