Gold ➳ Lydia Martin

09; Killers of all Ages

majordomo 

noun | may - jer - doh - mo | meaning - a person who speaks, makes arrangements, or takes charge for another

09; Killers of all Ages 

Miles pulled his car into the spot next to where his uncle had just parked. Sitting outside of the closed veterinary clinic, Miles wouldn't have expected anything out of the ordinary about it. Not that he'd had much experience with veterinarians and their offices seeing as he never had a pet, but it seemed like a typical clinic to him. 

However, Miles knew this to be very, very untrue. Most animal clinic's strayed away from harboring murder victims after hours, but not too long ago Miles and his Uncle had dropped off the mangled body of a hunter and were now returning with Gerard to get a prognosis. 

Swiftly, Miles unbuckled himself and slipped out of his car, meeting up with the other hunters as they all aimed for the front door of the building. Chris was the first one to get to it, holding the door open for the others. Miles, who gave his uncle a quick nod, led the others in. Not announcing himself because he knew the veterinarian had to have heard the chime of the bell on the front door, Miles and the others made their way into the backroom of the clinic.

In the backroom, the Veterinarian, Deaton, was examining the wounds on the body they'd brought in. When he saw the hunter out of the corner of his eyes, he sighed and stood up to address them. 

"I'm starting to think I need to buy a more prominent closed sign," Deaton said as he turned to look at them. 

Miles was almost amused, but didn't let it show as he walked further into his room. An unreadable but undeniably significant look flashed across Deaton's face when he say Gerard Argent following his grandson in to the room. 

"Hello, Alan," Gerard greeted, approaching the vet. "It's been a while. The last I'd heard you had retired." 

"The last I heard you followed a code of conduct," Deaton retorted. 

"If you hadn't noticed, this body," Chris now joined the conversation as he motioned to the corpse, "Is one of ours."

"I did. I also noticed the gun powder residue on his fingertips," Deaton assured the other hunter. "So don't assume I'll be persuaded by your philosophy just because I'll answer a few questions." 

"He was only twenty-four," Chris's tone was taught. 

"Killers come in all ages," Deaton responded. His eyes flickered over to Gerard, and then past the older man to look at his grandson, who was standing perfectly straight behind him. 

"All ages, sizes, shapes," Gerard corrected. "It's the last one that concerns us."