Hey, hey, my wonderful readers! So good to see everyone again! I've been busy, lately. Writing like crazy, of course. Honestly, I'm thinking about moving this story to posting once a week so I can start putting some time into my original fiction. I'd really, really like to make some money off of my writing, eventually, and sadly, fanfiction cannot be sold without official sanction…which I don't have. *sad panda* Maybe after this story arc.
In the mean time, enjoy Jezzie getting herself into trouble. She seems to have a talent for it. *grin*
Great Escape Chapter 3: Definitive Proof
Jezebel wrapped Dark's leash around a metal post that made up a corner of the fence that surrounded the yard of the empty house. Threading the clasp through the hand loop, she clipped it to the dog's collar and wrapped her arms around him.
"Good boy, Dark. You're a good boy. I have to go in a minute, but I'll be back. I promise." She kissed him on the top of the head and stood up as a pair of headlights rounded the corner. Perfect timing.
Shoving the last of her trepidation down into a deep, dark corner of her mind, she trotted toward the headlights. The black car stopped, the yellow sign with the word 'taxi' glowing from the top of the car. Jezebel pulled the back door open and climbed inside.
A dark haired man with a strong five o'clock shadow gracing his jaw peered at her over the back of the front seat.
"You Jezzie Victoria?"
"Yes, sir," Jezebel said, keeping her voice even and respectful. The man looked down at a computer display set into the console of the car.
"Headed for 321 Eastchase Boulevard?"
"That's it." Ethan's house.
"Alright. Get you there in a moment."
The man flipped the overhead light off and Jezebel sighed with relief as he pulled away from the curb. The hardest part of her plan was a success. She hadn't been sure what she would do if the cab driver refused her fare.
Leaning back in the seat, Jezebel peered out of the window, watching street lights and dark buildings flash past. She knew she was going to get in trouble for this. Probably incredibly deep trouble, but she had to know if Ethan was okay. If he was at home and fine, she would stay there until Matheson came to get her and she'd face her punishment with grace. If something had happened to him, she was calling Integra, hunt or no hunt.
They pulled up in front of a small house on a quiet residential street. The place was dark and there was no car in the driveway. At almost midnight, Jezebel was mostly certain that Ethan and his parents should be home.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" The driver frowned at her in the rear view mirror. "Doesn't look like anyone is home."
"It's right." Of course, she didn't know that for certain, but she couldn't tell him that. He might try to take her back to Hellsing. She reached for the door handle and pushed it open, hurrying to get out. "Thank-you!"
She slammed the door shut and walked up the driveway as though she belonged there. The taxi stayed at the curb for a few seconds and then pulled away. At least she didn't have to worry about that part of the plan anymore.
Jezebel walked under the carport and peered through the chain link fence into the backyard. It was obvious no one was home, and that, in and of itself, was strange, but was it enough to warrant calling Sir Integra during a hunt? No. She needed some definitive proof that they weren't just out late. She would have to get inside. Scowling, she went back to the side door and tried the knob. Locked. Well, it wasn't like she'd expected anything different.
Just because she would kick herself if she didn't check and it turned out to be open, she headed to the stairs beside the driveway and checked the front door. Also locked. Trotting back down the stairs, she turned and craned her head back to peer up at the second story windows. She'd never broken into a house before. With the doors locked, she wasn't sure how to get in. Maybe the windows. Unfortunately, the ground floor picture window wasn't designed to open. There weren't any windows on the ground floor at the sides of the house. What kind of house didn't have windows? Hellsing had them everywhere.
Sighing, Jezebel passed under the empty carport, back to the chain link fence in the back. The gate had a very obvious padlock on it, but the fence didn't seem that tall. Grabbing the links, she hooked a toe in one of the spaces and started climbing. In moments, she hopped down from the top of the fence and looked around the backyard.
Stairs led to a porch and sliding glass doors at the back of the house. Most of the yard was taken up by a vegetable garden and a massive tree grew in the right hand corner.
She checked the sliding glass doors but they didn't budge. A long, narrow window graced the back of the house, but it was easily six feet off the ground and didn't look like it opened either. Would she have to break the sliding glass doors to get in? She really didn't want to. Besides the noise it would make, she didn't want to break Ethan's house.
Clambering down the stairs, she turned to examine the back of the house, wishing she had more light. Her eyes landed on a pair of curious windows, low to the ground and to the right of the back porch. She cocked her head. Where did those lead?
It didn't matter. If they were unlocked, they were her ticket in.
Picking her way around the corner of the garden, she knelt next to the windows. One wouldn't budge, but the other rattled when she tried to open it. Maybe the pane was loose.
Glancing around to see if anyone had heard the rattle and come out to check on it, she grasped the wooden edge and shook the frame as much as she could in the socket. Something on the inside clattered and the window fell open.
She almost whooped with triumph but instead buried her grin in her shirt sleeve while she got a hold of herself. The space beyond the window gave back no light, as dark as a cave…or Alucard's room. That didn't bother her, but unlike Alucard's room, she didn't know what lay inside so she couldn't thread her way around obstacles.
Biting her lip, she pondered the issue and an idea popped into her head. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the cell phone. Pressing the button to activate it, she swiped her finger across the screen and winced as the light pierced her dark-adjusted eyes.
Turning the phone away to direct the light through the window, she examined the room beyond.
What was a ground level window on the outside turned out to be a ceiling level window on the inside. Suddenly grateful that she'd thought of the phone for light, she looked down to find several boxes stacked up against the wall. Would they hold her weight? Only one way to find out.
Turning so she could slide feet first through the window, Jezebel wriggled inside. She lay on her stomach, feeling for the boxes but she was too short. She wasn't going to be able to ease her weight onto them. No hope for it. She pushed herself backward and slipped down the wall, feet landing on the top box.
They must have contained something solid, like books, because the box only gave a little bit under her weight. Crouching down, she turned and shined the light from her phone around the room. It only illuminated for a few feet, but it did manage to reveal a plethora of dusty cardboard boxes. Going to hands and knees, Jezebel made her way over the top of them until she found their edge. What little she could see of the rest of the room seemed to be empty except for some machinery off to the right. A staircase on the left led to the upper floor and she realized if she had moved left from the windows instead of straight, she would have gotten to the stairs faster.
With a sigh, she scrambled down off the boxes and jogged across the concrete floor to mount the stairs. Nothing down here looked remotely helpful to her investigation.
The stairs came out next to the side entrance where the carport was. Shining her light on the wall, she spotted a switch and flipped it up. Light flooded the ground floor of the house, revealing a living room with couch and television, dining nook with a small table and chairs, and the archway into the kitchen. Nothing looked unusual or out of place, but she'd never been to Ethan's house. How would she know what was and wasn't out of place?
At the least, there was no blood, no dead bodies and it didn't look like anyone had broken in. Maybe they were just out late. Really late.
No. Something was wrong. She knew it. She just had to find proof.
Moving out into the room, she glanced over the couch and entertainment center. Pictures lined the top of the wooden structure with a fake plant trailing ivy down the side. More pictures lined the walls, most of them featuring Ethan, with or without either parent, in various stages of growing up. Did Sir Integra have any pictures of her? None that she knew of. Did that bother her?
Shaking her head at the random, asinine question, she turned away from the living room to examine the kitchen and dining nook. Not much there, but at the back of the dining nook, she found another set of stairs. Climbing those, she found the bedrooms.
Four doors led off of the landing at the top of the stairs. The one directly in front of her stood open, revealing a bathtub and toilet. Nothing to find there.
The door immediately on her left was closed, but the one next to it stood open, a touch of moonlight shining in from the double windows. Stepping through the door, Jezebel hit the light switch and grinned. It had to be Ethan's room. A twin bed sat in the corner and Jezebel giggled at the Spiderman comforter that covered it. On the opposite wall, she spotted a chest of drawers and a small desk. Bits of quartz and polished stones decorated the top of the drawers and a stack of books and papers occupied the desk. One drawer in the bureau sat partway open. Everything else looked neat and tidy.
Frowning, Jezebel crossed the room and pulled the drawer open. A single white shirt lay on the bottom, neatly folded. Pushing that drawer closed, she opened the next one. Empty. The very top drawer held a single pair of socks with an obvious hole in the toe.
Scowling, the girl turned and spotted a closet door in the wall beyond the foot of the bed. She pulled it open and found two sweaters, a pair of trousers and a veritable forest of empty hangers. All of the clothes were gone.
She bit her lip and thought of the bathroom. One last thing to check. It looked like the bathroom would hold a clue after all. Dashing through the doors, she flipped the light switch. A toothbrush holder sat on the sink counter, empty. No hairbrush, no toothpaste. She pulled out the sink drawers and found alcohol, band aids, some old hair ties, but they seemed curiously empty. No toothpaste.
Who took their toothbrush and toothpaste on a normal night out?
Not sure whether to feel relieved or panicked, Jezebel dug in her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She activated the screen and dialed Sir Integra. Holding the phone to her ear, she listened to it ring once, twice.
"Jezebel? What are you…"
"He's gone, Sir Integra! I'm at Ethan's house and most of his clothes are gone, no one is here, their car is gone. There's no toothpaste!"
"You're at…Jezebel, I think you need to give me a better explanation. Who is there with you?"
Jezebel bit her lip. This was where it could all go wrong. Integra could easily lose sight of the fact that Ethan was missing in the light of her heir's misbehavior. How to phrase it?
"Jezebel."
The girl winced at Integra's warning tone.
"I'm here alone, but please, please, please listen to me. I got a call from Ethan while I was out playing with Dark, so I missed it. When I tried to call him back, he didn't answer, but then he texted me and I thought that was weird. I asked Matheson to drive me here, but he said it was too close to dinner time. I did ask! So, I came here on my own and they're gone, Sir Integra. They're gone!"
"How did you…no. You can explain it later when you're safe at home. Stay there until Matheson comes to get you."
"Matheson?" Jezebel's voice squeaked on the name. He was going to be furious with her. For a moment, fear washed through her, but then she frowned and straightened her back. She'd known she would get in trouble when she decided to steal Seras's credit card and leave Hellsing grounds. Her only defense was that Integra needed to know if Ethan and his family came up missing, and the sooner the better.
"Yes. Matheson. And you had best have a damn good explanation for what you've done."
"Yes, ma'am."
Jezebel felt considerably subdued as Integra hung up. She'd heard the woman curse before, but rarely at herself. Maybe she was going to be in more trouble than she thought. But…she had to know, and Matheson wouldn't help her and Integra needed to know if Ethan went missing.
The roiling in her gut didn't feel convinced. Would it have really delayed things that much for her to wait for the hunt to be over? It wasn't like they'd call it off for this, anyway.
Feeling sick, Jezebel turned off the upstairs lights and trudged down to sit on the couch in the living room. She stared at the walls full of pictures and waited for her fate.
A/N: Yep. Definitely in trouble. Integra is not happy. *grin*
*Sigh* I just spent the afternoon trying to design a floor plan for Hellsing. Oi…it's probably completely impossible to build. I'm no architect. Lol. Oh well. It's fiction, right? *grin* Interestingly enough, going by the size of the place, they probably would have the soldiers in the house itself. I think I've described them as having the barracks and stuff outside the house. Oh well. I tend to use floor plans a lot in my writing so I can map out what the characters are seeing. Ethan's house is based on a floor plan that I located online. :) For some reason, I love looking at floor plans. Heh.