A/N: It's that time again! New chapter! Whoop whoop! Thanks for sticking around and reading this story! I don't own the show about the multi-aged werewolves, kitsunes, banshees, hot parents, and the boy named Stiles. Now let's go!

Chapter Eight: Who the Hell is Bleeding on Our Floor? And is That…?

Isaac's P.O.V

"What the HELL?!"

On the floor was Artie and some stranger girl covered in dirt and blood. Also she was in a tattered white dress. He had her arms, dragging her. Plus she was unconscious. I closed the door and then attempted to keep my blood pressure down. When we locked eyes, he dropped her arms and she fell with a thump.

"Isaac, don't freak out," he stated holding out his hands.

No he didn't.

"What the hell Artie?" I whispered yelled. "Why the hell is there some girl on our floor? Where'd she come from? You didn't attack her did you?"

Artie shook his head no.

"I didn't. But somebody did,"

Ah hell. My good mood deflated rapidly. Sitting Hale carefully on the table with my keys, I hurried over to Artie and the girl.

"You got any info?"

"She's not from around here," he stated. "Definitely a tourist. Couldn't find any id or anything on her though."

He lifted her dress slightly. A huge bleeding bite was on the outside of her leg.

"Who could've done this?" I questioned him. "How many Alphas around that could do this?"

"Well there's ten different Alphas in France. Four that are close to here including mine. Any one of them could've done it. At least I know it wasn't mine. She doesn't smell like her or the rest of us."

Sigh. Great. I wanted to get away from Beacon Hills for a reason. So I wouldn't have to deal with stuff like this. Trouble is a friend I suppose.

"What do we do with her?"

Artie sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"We're stuck with her until Sera gets back from Moscow," he answered.

Damn it. I'm trying to enjoy my high from my good date and I can't.

"This is going to screw up the French Rule for sure," Artie muttered.

Huh?

"What's the French Rule?"

Artie scooped the girl up and carried her to his room. I followed behind him and leaned against the door frame.

"The French Rule is essentially the head of the werewolves in France. Born or turned," Artie explained. "If you want to turn someone or if someone is born into your family, you have to report them to the French Rule. Judging from the fact that I found her in the middle of the woods about to be eaten by coyotes means she's not registered. And the person wasn't going to register her either."

That sounds like a reasonable system. That sucks for her though. Plus there's the possibility…

"Is she going to live?"

Artie shrugged.

"The odds looked to be in her favor but you can never know," he responded. "I've seen a few times when they look like they accepted the bite but ultimately didn't make it."

My final little piece of happiness deflated. Artie must've noticed because he sucked his teeth.

"Damn man. My bad. How was your date tonight? Did you have Sabine wrapped around your finger?"

I snorted. It was definitely the other way around.

"I had an awesome time," I answered, ignoring the other question. "She did too apparently. Enough to warrant a second date and a kiss."

Artie whistled.

"Well look at this smooth ass Casanova," Artie teased, patting my shoulder.

I glanced the bloody handprint he left on me.

"Sorry,"

I nodded then looked at the girl. I hope she gets through this. I don't know what they do in France with dead supernatural bodies but I know I'm sick and tired of burying bodies.

"Are you as tired as I am right now? Because I'm completely exhausted,"

Sabine called me and I couldn't be more thrilled. Especially after dealing with Girl in Artie's Bed. She still hasn't woken up yet but her heart's still going and the bite on her side looks like it's healing. Artie had a friend (emissary) come over and examine her. He gave her a pretty good bill of health and told us it was best to just keep her here. Next step seems to be making sure she doesn't turn into a paralyzing lizard. Or any other cold blooded reptile. Or Lydia.

"Yeah. Last night really wore me out,"

I heard Artie snort as he walked to the kitchen. A smirk grew on my face when I heard him yelp from me throwing a pillow at him.

"So what do you have planned for us?"

Sabine laughed.

"I honestly have no clue," she answered. "You set the bar pretty high. I'll probably have to ask Maddie or Val for ideas. They go on a lot of dates."

"You don't?"

A sarcastic laugh.

"Are you kidding me? Most dates I go on are utter disasters. But for some reason I still decide to date them."

Sounds like an awful course of action.

"But hopefully you'll be different,"

I certainly will. Before I could respond, an ear-piercing scream ripped through the house. Our guest is awake. I watched Artie dart out the kitchen.

"Oh my God! What was that?"

Uhhh. She screamed again.

"Isaac?!"

"That's just my roommate's horror movie," I lied smoothly. "He blares the damn thing like a weirdo."

I covered the speaker.

"Artie! Turn down the noise!" I yelled.

I made sure Sabine could hear. Didn't need her to think we were murdering someone here or something. That wouldn't go well with trying to keep up with a date.

"Got it! Sorry man!" he called back.

Sigh. Thank you. I uncovered the phone and adjusted myself on the couch.

"Hello?"

"Yeah?"

"Okay. Sorry about that again," I stated, sighing for effect. "Stupid roommate. Always has to listen to everything on the highest freaking setting."

Sabine agreed.

"Yeah. That's how Maddie is. Feels this dire need to blast her music. Surprised I haven't gone deaf yet."

Another response of mine got interrupted. This time by something crashing against the wall. Their voices started to elevate. I growled. This sucks.

"Hey Sabine, I'm going to have to call you back later. Need to teach my roomie on noise containment,"

Sabine giggled and said to take my time. She always said she'll text me later if she figures out something for us to do. Once I hung up, I threw my phone on the table and stormed in Artie's room. I heard them yelling at each other before I could get near the door. The urge to snort came up when I heard her voice. She was British. When I opened the door, the girl was on the other side of the bed holding a vase in her hands. Both of their heads whipped towards me.

"Well it's nice to see you up and about," I joked in a deadpan voice.

"Who the hell are you?!" she shrieked.

"If you would stop throwing shit around here for fifteen freaking seconds, you'd get an answer!" Artie yelled back.

Apparently she didn't like that because she chucked the vase at Artie. He ducked and the vase exploded behind him. She went to grab another vase, but it was over behind me.

"You tried to bloody kill me!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger at Artie.

He what? Artie shook his head no.

"I merely tried to keep her quiet,"

Jesus. The girl still looked like she was going to attack. Her eyes landed on me. I held up my hands in a surrendering manner.

"Calm down," I whispered. "We're not going to hurt you. I swear."

Her eyes were still ablaze but her body stance relaxed.

"Who are you?" she repeated.

"My name is Isaac Lahey," I introduced. "And that over there is Arthur Williams. We found you in the woods. You got bitten."

She scoffed and flailed her arms.

"Wouldn't it make more sense to just take me to a hospital?!"

Well.

"Not exactly," I told her. "You weren't bitten by a normal animal."

She gaped at me. Then fear started to set into her eyes.

"Oh no," she gasped in horror. "Tell me I wasn't bitten by a werewolf."

Well then. That just cut out the fun part.

"You were," Artie responded. "We don't know who though."

She let out a breathy sarcastic laugh.

"Probably my jackass boyfriend,"

She rolled her eyes. What. The. Hell. She seems really chill about this. And she's taken away my fun.

"Is your boyfriend an Alpha?"

She shook her head no.

"Then he didn't bite you. Only Alphas can turn people."

Her stance slumped.

"Do you have any clue who turned me? I mean, I'm not even from here," she groaned, covering her face. "I'm from England."

That's obvious. Her accent was thick.

"We don't know who turned you," I told her, attempting to move towards her.

She didn't tried to hit me when I came over, so I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and sat her on the bed. Artie went on my other side.

"The Alpha of this area is going to come in a few weeks and hopefully get all of this taken care of. Okay?"

She moved her hands from her face and stared at me. Then squinted.

"Are you trying to hit on me? Because I just said I have a boyfriend."

Can this day get any worse? Artie failed miserably to cover his laughter. I'm going to leave this room and let Artie handle this. So glad she's up and about.

"Isaac? Please adjust your face. You're scaring away customers."

I made the effort to place a smile on my face. Amelie grinned and pinched my cheek.

"You look like a serial killer but I suppose it's better,"

Okay Mom. She instructed me to go to the front and fix the menus near Helene. Dang. My face really must be horrifying. You only go on menu duty when Amelie thinks you don't need to be on the floor. I'm sorry but I'm concerned that Artie can't handle Nicola. Especially when I left for work, they were cursing each other out. She even looked like she was going to attack him. Again. I should probably call there while I'm on my break. When I got over to the hostess podium, the Helene bumped my hip with hers as I ducked beside it and grabbed menus.

"Amelie put you on menu duty?"

I nodded. She sucked her teeth.

"Better you than me I suppose,"

Thanks. I am so feeling the love today. It's just flowing everywhere. A customer came in, so Helene left me alone at the podium. I wasn't alone for long, Amelie came over.

"Enjoying menu duty?" she queried.

So wish she could see my face right now. I feel like a little toddler being forced to clean up their toys.

"Yeah. I'm just loving menu duty,"

I continued to grumble. Amelie just laughed at my pain. When I heard the door bell ding, she kicked me. Ow.

"Welcome to Le Bistro de La France," she greeted at whoever.

I continued to shift the menus around near Amelie while she talked to whoever it was at the door. She slipped a menu from my hands and was leading the person to a table. My heart stopped when Amelie and the person breezed past me. I recognize that overly freaking expensive cologne. Standing up and throwing the menus back in their spot, I scanned the room for them. Oh sweet mother of mercy. Sitting down, talking to Amelie was King of Dicks himself. Jackson Whittemore.

Chapter End.

Okay so before I end this whole chapter, I just want to explain a little thing I do. Italics can mean two different things. One is the person is talking in French. The other is if the people are on the phone. I'll try to specify or just change how I go about that. But that's for another day. Thanks again for reading. Remember to review or something and I'll see you next chapter!