Carpe Nocturnum

Ariadne · Hope of Rome

Carpe Nocturnum

Ashes Of Faith · Lukois' Lucifer

Retirement and Ash were mixing about as well as oil and vinegar. It wasn't that he didn't like having the extra time with the pack, but if he had to spend one more afternoon on the couch watching News he was going to pull out a .45 and put a silver bullet in his own brain. He'd been taking a lot of early morning jogs. And afternoon jogs. And late night jogs. There was a hell of a lot of shoe leather being eaten up on the vineyard paths lets just put it that way.

In his wanderings the thought came to him that an easy solution might simply be to go back to some independant work. He knew Elena had owned a security company for years, and he was betting Lydia had police contacts here, and he had been in the executioner business longer than almost any other person he knew. If they put their brains and spare time together they could probably start a contract company that would if nothing else keep them all from pulling their hair out with all this spare time.

Feet pounded the path back towards the pack house as he mulled it over and added a few other names to the check list in his head. Mary Jane and Frost were two he would have to call about the idea. Certain that both would be ready to see some action again. Funny that he seemed to surround himself with close non-pack friends who were more entertained by putting bullets in things than anything else. Guess like attracted like.

Slowing his pace to a walk he tugged at the elastic waistband of the black cotton sweatpants he wore. The fabric had been cut off just below the knee so that the scar tissue that covered the front of his shins was easy to see. Under the clothes Ash was really just a big old mess. Man had more scars and tattoos than clean skin. He grabbed a handtowel that he had left draped over one of the chairs that sat around the patio table and lifted it to wipe the layer of sweat from his brow.

Sitting on the table he could see a message blinking on his cell phone and he lifted it to check the number. The fact that it registered without a name from his address book wasn't all that unusual so it didn't raise a brow. Flipping open the phone he pulled out a chair and dropped down into it with typical boneless grace. Fingers pressed the buttons that would take him to his voice mail to listen to the message. As he listened he tugged a cigarette from the pack on the table and lit it. After the short message finished he dialed back the number and left his own message with a time and place to meet. Curiousity peaked.