It was a remarkably cold day the day Adam Parrish had died. On the contrary, it had been an unremarkably hot day when Ronan Lynch had decided to become a ghost hunter.
It was the cold that finished Adam off. He had gotten up early to help his father with some cars, joints protesting and bruises aching as he pulled clothes on his frail frame. His head felt heavy, sleepy, but not in any natural way. It was exhaustion, mental and physical. It was the winter holidays, and when he wasn't working one of his many jobs, he was forced to work for free to try and appease his ill-tempered father.
Adam silently left the house to avoid waking his father up as he went to his first job of the day. Despite the thick snow and hail, Adam knew that staying home would leave him in a worse condition than the cold ever could. Skipping work simply wasn't an option. So, he pulled his bike out from behind the trailer, giving it a quick check over for issues before riding off.
Adam had tried to layer up with his school jacket over his work uniform, but without a proper coat, he was still shaking and losing colour in his skin. His biking got slower and slower, before it fell to the side. The ground, pressed against Adam's numb cheek, felt alive, beating with an ancient energy.
'Do you wish to die?' A soft-spoken voice asked him. It seemed to infect the ear pressed to the cold ground, filling it with something that he guessed was honey, or something equally thick and gooey. 'If you wish, your agreed, unpredicted death could give us life!'. The voice sounded very enthusiastic about this concept. All Adam knew was that he felt tired, too tired to get up, too tired to... live, especially like he did, in such fear. He realised that he could finally do some good, giving whatever this was life. His throat felt too numb to answer, but the voice seemed to pick up on his thoughts, a gleeful giggle rushing through him.
That was the last thing Adam remembered before he found himself face-to-face with his blue corpse.
Ronan's involvement in the ghost world didn't happen for another five months and twenty days. It was late July, so the hot day wasn't unusual in any way. He had been sitting at a table at Nino's with Gansey, his best friend (who was tormented with his other nickname, Dick), and Blue, Gansey's... what was she? Girlfriend seemed the obvious answer, but it didn't seem right. Their stolen glances suggested that their relationship wasn't something they had delved into, likely out of fear.
"Ronan?" Blue waved a spoon in front of his face bravely, likely because Gansey sat between them. Ronan bared his teeth at her, slouching back a little further on the tattered seats. It was obvious that he had missed part of the conversation, although Gansey seemed more than pleased to repeat himself.
"Ghosts, Ronan! I found some people who claim that their energy readings correspond with spiritual activity. Other people have said that they saw some!" Gansey's eyes were bright with excitement, something Ronan had seen before the beginning of Gansey's next quest for a meaning for his life. It made Gansey happy, though, and just like all of his ideas, Ronan eventually agreed. Ghosts weren't his area of expertise- he doubted he could beat up ghosts- but adventures with Gansey and Blue certainly were.
Gansey, beaming, had pulled out a map. It had faded in the creases, proving that it had been folded and unfolded numerous times, but that wasn't what made Ronan stare at it. The bright dots of colour were. Red dots scattered lazily, creating a thick line through Henrietta, while purple dots made a firm, clear line in between the red dots. Finally, a single black dot. Ronan leant in, curious, and noticed the black dot was located not too far from where they were. Close to being spooked, Ronan calmly rested his elbows on the table, listening as Gansey launched into an explanation. He pointed out the red dots, explaining that they were energy readings that had spiked, and that the purple dots were ghost sightings.
"Can you see? There's a correlation between energy readings and sightings! This gives us a good chance of finding a ghost if we just-"
"And the black dot?" Ronan interupted Gansey's excited ramblings with his simple question. He easily knew that Gansey could talk about those dumb dots for hours without even touching upon the black one, and curiosity had begun to gnaw at his mind. Gansey's eyes dropped to the dot, eyebrows knitted together. Blue opened her mouth to speak, to explain where Gansey was worriedly silent.
Then it began to spread. Ink bled outwards on the paper, weeping down, ruining the dots. It was like a thick plague that clung to the patterns and drowned all colour in its wake.
"That, Ronan, is where a body was found. It's been dead for months, but it hasn't decayed," Blue's thick voice spoke, in shock at the disintergrated paper that crumpled on the table.
"Then that's where we're going."