Chapter One: Monmouth and Ruminations on Life
(set after Blue Lily but before Raven King; I haven't gotten #4 yet so...)
Blue Sargent was covered in dust. Her hair, her clothes—even her skin was colored a dusky, shadowy brown. She let out a puff of air and watched as a
cloud of dust slowly dissipated in the still air.
She was lying on her back in a huge, cavernous space lit only by whatever chinks of lights could sneak in around its boarded-up windows. Some of the higher windows were not covered, or perhaps their boards had fallen off, and by the door someone had cleared a single pane and left the wood in a pile on the floor. In blue's current position it was easy to see all these fragments of light, overlapping and criss-crossing one another, and imagine herself climbing up one of the elongated sunbeams like a regal, shimmering staircase. The whole building was really much like a grand old mansion, she thought, or like the ruin of one. Appropriate, then, that Gansey should have chosen to live here.
Slowly she sat up, a rainstorm of dust falling from her arms and body. The migrant dirt was nearly and inch thick on the rough wooden floor, and Blue had unwittingly immersed herself in it. She frowned as she brushed it from her shirt, which had been made for her by a dear friend and which in hindsight was perhaps not the best choice for today's adventuring. Blue was not the sort of girl who spent undue time worrying about clothes, but this dust was thick and stubborn and had already sifted into every stitch and pore. Matters were made even worse by the large number of sequins sewn in strange and possibly random patterns across her shirtfront—Persephone was not one for moderation when inspiration struck. Blue's efforts had made no noticeable difference; she frowned again and brushed more vigorously.
She of course had expected dust, and grime and uneven floors and broken windows. But really the intensity of the decay was what had tripped her up—quite literally, in fact; she'd wanted to examine the state of affairs in this room but it hadn't been her intention to coat herself in it. The whole place had such a feeling of abandonment that Blue felt it in her stomach like someone had punched her. Heart-wrenching, really. She wanted desperately to help the old building, to tear the boards from its windows and sweep every particle of dust from its floors, but at the same time there was an almost sacred feeling to the silent air and blue dared not disturb a thing. The dust was time personified, nature ever so slowly reclaiming what man had created.
Blue shook her head and began to get to her feet. The toe of her shoe suddenly caught the edge of a straying board and she nearly toppled back into the dusty lake, but she managed to right herself and planted her feet firmly on the warped planks of the floor. Her jeans, showing less denim now than furry brown, begged her attention. She gave her knees a good whack and got a face-full of dust, which caused her to sneeze and nearly fall over again. She grimaced at the state of her clothing but decided that perhaps it was a good time to cut her losses and leave. She felt a bit sheepish at the result of her adventure—she had, after all, been warned of the conditions on the building's first floor, and insisted on seeing it anyway.
She tossed a last glance over her shoulder at the scene of her mishap. A Blue-shaped hollow was imprinted into the dirt, bare floorboards peeking through the carpet of neglect. She considered returning in a few days just to see if her mark was still there. It felt strangely satisfying to leave some proof to mark her trail, some claim on this dear old building.
Without further consideration, Blue picked her way carefully toward the door she had entered through. The cavernous space with its dim corners reminded her of an actual cavern, the dust like an extremely shallow lake through which she waded. Her mind flashed the image over her vision, of rocky water and darkness and the weight of all the world above her.
She looked up and banished the memory. This wasn't a cave, and if there were shadows here it was because there was also light.
Blue's empty room was the bottom half of a long-abandoned factory outside Henrietta, Virginia. The letters on the gate marked it as Monmouth Manufacturing, but none of its current tenants—or, as far as Blue knew, anyone in Henrietta—had any idea what had once been manufactured there. Any equipment that might have provided a clue was long gone, the warped windows boarded, the massive iron gates locked. The building had sat for decades empty except for birds and looters, slowly knitting itself a coat of rust and dust, until a headstrong boy with money to spare and dreams of magic took a liking to it and bought the whole thing. Out of principle Blue was somewhat opposed to Gansey's whims, and she found the purchase of an entire factory 'just because' quite annoying indeed. But it was difficult to protest when she stood in the center of his room upstairs on the second floor, vaulted and open as a cathedral, with its wall made entirely of ancient windows and its floor strewn with the complicated workings of Gansey's wandering mind. Even here, among the gentle sunbeams and dust-filled air strong with the smell of abandonment, Blue felt a stirring of awe. It was truly a beautiful building, she thought, if a bit lonely.
Blue shoved open the heavy door, making a face at the squeal of its rusted hinges, and filled her lungs with fresh air. The dust was starting to go to her head. A cloud shifted to reveal the sun, and she blinked in the sudden brilliance. Putting up a hand to shade her eyes, Blue scanned the factory's parking lot. A black BMW, long and mean; a hulking, shiny Suburban; and a violently orange '73 Camaro populated the worn patch of dirt. Blue's own vehicle, a tottering bicycle, was propped against the wrought-iron gate. She stepped gingerly away into the sun and applied her weight to the old door, which creaked and complained and finally shut. She climbed the stairs, glad that she hadn't needed to ask Gansey for help. He meant well, but letting him help her felt so much like giving up.