GENESIS: A RIGHT TO STAND (Book One) • SHADOWHUNTERS

RAPHAEL

She was not getting on that dance floor. If most of the guests here were faeries, she wasn't risking it—in fey legends, if someone began to dance in Faerieland, they could never stop. She folded her arms, partly to stop her fingers from tapping to the beat.

Besides, Izzy looked pretty wrapped up with Simon. And there was no way that Spencer was going to get in the middle of that. Instead, she went to the bar—which was made of doors laid on top of garbage bins—and ordered a bottle of water from the four-armed bartender.

"Alcohol not in the cards tonight?"

Spencer turned to see a boy, a little older than her, leaning against the bar. He was handsome, with a strong jaw and a straight nose, but his skin, though tanned, seemed sort of...pallid. Like a photo edited with a filter. His brown eyes glittered with a predatory interest. He had black curly hair that fell over his forehead and was dressed in black dress pants and a white shirt. A gold chain glinted at his collarbone.

Spencer shook her head. "As a general rule, I don't drink anything that glows," she said. "That, and I'm underage."

The boy laughed, his voice rich and smooth as honey. "I suppose that is fair," he replied, raising his own glass to his lips. It was filled with a red liquid that Spencer suspected was not, in fact, wine. "Although I won't tell if you don't." She noticed that his voice had a faint Spanish lilt to it. It was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it.

She shrugged. "Unfortunately, I struggle with rule-breaking and lying. I just can't do it." She opened her water bottle and took a sip.

He grinned. "I struggle with neither," he said, and Spencer couldn't help but grin back. The boy held out his hand. "Raphael." Spencer accepted and they shook. "You know, this is the part where you tell me your name."

She blushed. She actually blushed. "I'm Spencer," she said. "Sorry, I don't normally do this."

Raphael raised a brow. "What, talk to people?"

"To strangers," Spencer explained. "The last time I did...well, let's just say it landed me in some hot water that I haven't quite managed to get out of yet."

"If you don't talk to strangers, how on earth do you make friends?"

She shrugged again. "I don't know. I don't have many friends." She laughed at herself. "I guess I know why."

Raphael smiled, then leaned in, his lips at her ear. "I understand you are with the Nephilim," he murmured. Spencer shivered at the sensation. "I see they managed to fix you up after your run-in with the demon a few days ago."

Spencer drew back in alarm. "How did you know about that?"

Raphael also moved back. "I know almost everything that happens at night," he replied.

Spencer blinked, and it was as if a trance had broken. "I-you—you were there, weren't you?" she demanded. She recalled the pale faces above her, recalled the two people helping her... "You took me to the Institute. Didn't you?"

"I did," Raphael said. "I did not know if you had survived, but now I can rest assured that you are well."

"You're a vampire," Spencer said. "Do you even rest at all?"

Raphael threw back his head and laughed. "Touché," he said. "I was wondering how long it would be before you realised. Was it the blood?"

"Partly," Spencer said. "You've also been looking at me like I'm a potential meal the entire time we've been talking."

Immediately, the predatory look in his eyes dimmed. "I beg your forgiveness, Spencer," Raphael said sincerely. "I did not wish to frighten you. I sometimes allow my nature to take over my morals."