Hunter inclined his head. “And I really don’t need your permission, Sin.”

Sin stared at his brother for a moment and then chortled. “Whatever.”

Daemon had tensed, as if preparing for a battle to get through that door, and he didn’t relax when Sin pivoted on his heel and disappeared. Neither did I. The bad feeling I had from the moment Hunter started talking about Lotho had increased to epic levels.

Archer appeared at my other side, and the three of us followed Hunter through the door. Nothing could’ve prepared me for what I saw.

Underground city? No joke.

It was like stepping into a different world. There seemed to be no ceiling, even though I knew we were still deep underground. As far as the eye could see was scaffolding that climbed up, creating dozens and dozens of walkways circling the wide chamber. Doorways were visible on the lower levels, and thick, furry-looking material dangled from some of the railings. The whole setup kind of reminded me of a prison made out of wood.

God forbid anyone got clumsy with a match.

My eyes were wide as we made our way down the center of the room. There were handcrafted tables in amazingly rich detail and cribs scattered along the edges of the room, mixed among tall and wide cabinets. A few were open, revealing normal contents—canned food, paper towels, sodas.

“This is so weird,” I whispered to Daemon.

He nodded. “I had no idea any of this existed.”

“It must be kept that way,” Hunter said over his shoulder. “As much as I’m not a fan of Lotho, he’s built something here for our kind—a sanctuary of sorts. No matter what happens, you cannot share this with anyone.”

“We won’t,” Archer swore. “We have no need to tell anyone about this.”

“Okay.” Hunter reached for the door. “Let me do the talking. That means don’t open your mouth, Daemon. Seriously.”

Daemon frowned. “That’s not insulting.” I raised my brows at him, and he sighed. “Fine. I’ll stay quiet.”

We left the room and entered yet another hall and went through another door, but we could hear talking and laughter mixed with shouts and what sounded like banging. I had no idea what we were going to see beyond the door, and I tried to prepare myself for anything as Hunter pushed it opened, revealing a massive chamber.

Holy Arum babies, there was a buttload of Arum in here. They were everywhere, seated at long wooden tables and standing among them. My steps ground to a halt, and Daemon’s hand tightened on mine.

Every Arum in the room stopped talking and literally seemed to freeze. Some had been in the process of standing. Others had huge cups that looked like medieval goblets halfway to their mouths. There were even women holding swaddled babies. All of them were pale. Most had pitch-black hair, and paired with their pale blue eyes, it was a startling combination. A few had bleached their hair blond or even bright punk red.

They all stared at us.

Oh boy, the hair along the back of my neck rose as icy fingers trailed down my spine.

“What in the hell, Hunter?” boomed a deep voice from behind us.

I spun around and sucked in a deep breath as my eyes almost bugged out of my head. There was a large wooden dais that overlooked what was obviously a dinner hall. The steps leading up to it were few but steep, as in I’d probably break my neck coming down.

A man was seated up there, and even though he wasn’t standing, I could see that he was Jolly Green Giant size. The Arum was massive, broad in the shoulders and chest and thick in the thighs. He sat lazily, like he was barely awake, but there was a keen sense of acute observation in his pale blue eyes.

He was . . . he was handsome in a cold, unreal way. His features were sharp as if they’d been carved out of marble, lips full and expressive, nose straight and cheekbones high. His hair was bleached white, but his brows were dark. Somehow the odd combination worked. He gazed at us as he held a glass goblet full of amber-colored liquid in his right hand.

So this was the Grand Poo-Bah, as Luc had called him? I was reluctantly impressed.

Hunter stepped forward while I got a good look at what Lotho was sitting on, which appeared to be a throne made out of . . .

Holy run for the freaking hills and don’t look back, were they actual bones? They were strange, though definitely not human. They were thinner and seemed more flexible, as if the cartilage could be shaped and reshaped over and over again, and they had a faint, luminous blue sheen—

Oh God.

They were Luxen bones.

This was bad, real bad.

“You know what is going on up there,” Hunter began, but he didn’t get much further. “Luxen have—”

“I know what is going on up there,” Lotho interrupted, sipping his drink when I expected him to down it. “Luxen have come. Killed a bunch of humans and blah, blah, and a ton of other crap I don’t care about. But that doesn’t explain why you’d bring them here.”

Hunter opened his mouth.

“Unless you are bringing us dinner.” Lotho smiled, flashing white and oddly sharp-looking teeth. “If that is the case, thank you and the horse you rode in on.”

“We’re not here for dinner,” Daemon said, voice as cold as the room, and I winced. “Nor are we dessert. We’ve come here for your help to fight the invading Luxen.”

Wow. I looked at Daemon, sort of proud of him that he even uttered those words without a hint of sarcasm.

But Lotho looked like he might choke on the drink he just took. “Help?”