Authors Note: Half of this chapter almost got cut. I debated forever whether it belonged in the story or not. And I've neglected up to this point to thank my wonderful beta-reader Molly. Bravo for Molly. Disclaimer: Fanfiction a story based on or derived from someone elses work (book, movie, show, etc). The author of fanfiction owns none of the rights to the characters or stories except that which is theirs to begin with.

Chapter 9 She's gone!

"She didn't come back last night Rance," said visibly shaken Oliver. His eyes were red and bloodshot from staying awake all night searching the town for Izzy. The coffee cup he held shook in his hands. He held firm to it with an iron grip, which was odd because Oliver normally didn't drink coffee. It appeared that coffee had been his foul weather friend and kept him company through the night. "I don't know where she is."

"Did you get in a fight or something?" Rance treaded lightly. As much as Rance loved Oliver, he hated getting in the middle of relationship problems.

"Yes," Oliver admitted. "It was over Brenten Doyle. He came to me in the bloody locker room and gave me a warning about messing around with Muggles. She got all pissed off and said something about me choosing my job over her and left."

"Do you think she'll come back?"

"That's the thing Rance. I thought she would come back last night. That's how it works with Izzy; at least that's how I thought it worked." His relationship with Izzy had been going on for a while; he'd gotten used to the pattern and expected this was just another emotional blowup and would pass. Apparently it hadn't passed.

"Maybe she just needed more time Oliver. She's still adjusting to the wizarding world. Maybe she just needed a break."

"Maybe." The word was meant to sound hopeful, but everything Rance said sounded absolutely dismal to the distraught Oliver.

"You should get some rest, kid. Big match tomorrow," Rance hated bringing up the game, but as a teammate he felt obligated. Plus, as a bachelor, he felt uncomfortable giving Oliver love advice. He was ready to change the subject.

"I can't rest until I know she's okay," Oliver's voice sounded frantic again, "I mean anything could happen. Izzy was drunk; plus gorgeous and roaming the streets. I don't even know if she's safe, I just want to know she's safe Rance." The sleep deprivation and extraneous circumstance wore on Oliver's metal state. Once again, he was completely loosing his cool.

"Oliver, Izzy's a tough girl. She'll come back when she's ready and she can take care of herself. She's been living in New York City alone for years...she knows how to handle herself," Rance tried to remind his friend there was a time before Oliver had been watching over Izzy. She'd handled life just fine.

"You're right aren't you?"

"As always," Rance punched him playfully in the arm, trying break the intensity of the conversation. Looking at Oliver earnestly he asked, "You still don't believe me do you?"

"No," Oliver sighed.

-OoOoO-

AN:This is the section that almost wasn't part of the story

The first thing Izzy became aware of was the terrible headache pounding inside of her skull. Opening her eyes, she found herself sitting in a green armchair in a strangely dim room.

"Good morning dear," said a cold voice. Opening her eyes further she saw Brenten Doyle, her abandoning no-good father, sitting across from her.

"Go to hell," she muttered in the haze of her hangover. "Dante left a place for you in Caina-- betrayers of family."

"Dante's Inferno—intriguing Muggle fairytale, though I'm pretty sure it's completely rubbish."

"Bastard. Who do you think you are?" Izzy sat up in the chair unwilling to let him see her down.

"Frankly, I think I'm your father. I also think you have a major attitude problem; you're just like a teenager rebelling against her parents."

"How would you know, you left your child as an infant." Izzy was like a cornered animal fiercely fighting her way out with words.

"Score one for Isabella," he laughed coldly. "Really think I care who fares better in the insult battle? We all know where this is going. I'll win the war."

"Can I leave now that you've made you're little point or whatever. I can't really remember what it was, but I'm sure it changed my life. I'll be a better daughter and a better person for knowing you. Now I'll just be on my way," Izzy stood up and took a step towards the door.

Brenten Doyle's cold eyes stared harshly down at Izzy. "I'm afraid leaving isn't an option, dear. You are privy to a few too many of my secrets."

"Damn you! You can't keep me here against my will." That said, Izzy made a beeline for the door but he grabbed her shoulders shoving her back in the chair.

"With everything your mother told you do you really think I give a damn about what I can and can't do? Now we just have some details to work out. Firstly, I'm sorry but I'm taking those grotesque body mutilations out of your face," with those words his hands reached for the diamond stud in Izzy's lip. She reacted quickly, a hard smack met the side of his face pushing him back.

"Feisty. You know I didn't want it to come to this," he muttered some more gibberish and Izzy's hands and feet were bound by invisible ropes. The harder she struggled, the tighter the bonds got. He removed the stud from Izzy's lip, and then took the barbell out of her eyebrow. With Izzy immobile the jewelry came out with ease and her father added in a pseudo fatherly voice, "There. That's much better."

"Get on with it, bastard," Izzy said impatiently positive he was about to kill her.

"Get on with what, dear?"

"Killing me. Get it over with." She hated the melodramatic drawing out of the death scene. She didn't want to give him the gratification of a huge scene.

"Oh I'm not going to kill you. Even for me it's a major faux pas to kill your own daughter." His fake smile chilled her bones. "Besides," he said brushing her cheek, "You have your mother's face. I could never kill her."

Thanks for reading, I'll be back with more shortly. Please respond.

Reviewers:
Riley: It isn't really bribery because I write for the sake of writing. With or without responses I end up posting at the same time either way. What really controls my writing is my schoolwork. College is a drag like that

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