"Because some things are worth more than a little ghostly agony." Caelan's grin was back, a reckless, defiant flash of white in the oppressive gloom. The gloves seemed to have given him a new lease on life, a fresh infusion of arrogance. He flexed his fingers, the silver-gray fabric of the gloves seeming to drink the faint light. "And trust me, babe, this scroll is worth a whole lot of agony."
He started moving again, pulling her along, the corridor ahead of them twisting into an even deeper darkness. The whispers were still there, a faint, muffled background noise, like the sound of a distant, storm-tossed sea.
She wanted to argue. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was a fool, that he was going to get them both killed for a piece of paper. But her throat was tight, the words caught behind a knot of fear and frustration. What was the point? He was insane. He wouldn't listen.
