Lyon sat on the stairs, his tawny hair in wild disarray that told her he'd awoken from a recent nap and was probably coming downstairs in search of snacks.
He peered at her with sweet curiosity, and to her surprise, Dillon found some of her trepidation easing.
“Well, I need to talk to Nasa. This is his door, right?” She knew it was, but the longer she stayed up here chatting with Lyon, the longer she was able to put off actually going through the door.
Lyon nodded and bounced to his feet, hopping like a bunny down the last few steps. “Yup, yup! But he can't herd you if you jus be knockin. Dat door is unpennable. Polyps proof. You gotta ring dis bell and holler real loud if you wan Unka Nasaw to answer. I show you.”
Fighting a smile, Dillon moved back at Lyon's imperious wave to move her out of his way.
It was hilarious to watch him bounce up and down to reach the doorbell, slapping it with his little hand, shouting at the top of his baby lungs.
“UNKA NASAW! WOAH-PEN DIS DAMN DOH!”
Dillon could hear the smile in Nasa's voice when the intercom to the left of the door clicked on. “What's the password?”
Lyon scoffed, looking over his shoulder at her with his nose scrunched up in thought.
“Baws. I forgotted about the passurd. Uh... oh, yeah!” Lyon sucked in a huge breath, threw his shoulders back, and howled, “FUNKY SPUNKY BOO BUTTED MONKEY!”
The door to the prepper's lair opened inward with a soft hiss, and there he was, all seven feet of pure Viking, grinning down at the littlest brother of Perdition.
“Hey, killer. What's up?”
Very importantly, Lyon hooked his thumb over his shoulder at her.
“Dilly wansa talk. You got ehny box? I'm sirsty.”
“I've got apple juice and some string cheese with your name on it.” Nasa scooped the kid up and settled him on his hip like it was the most natural thing in the world, and her already bruised and battered heart gave a flutter.
To her, Nasa said, “You good?”
Dillon managed to nod, noticing just now that instead of an inky black pit, the walls and ceiling of the basement stairwell were now a soft white.
“Come down when you're ready.” Nasa turned to make his descent, asking Lyon if he'd had a good nap.
Dillon crept forward like there was an ambush waiting to happen, peering down the long stairwell to see the light flooding the whitewashed space.
She took the steps one at a time, creeping slowly forward, her mouth dryer than the desert as she followed the sound of Nasa's voice.
The warm, masculine smell of leather, saddle soap, and snow-covered spruce hit her halfway down. It took her a second to realize it was him. His smell that permeated every inch of the large underground space.
“Can I watch some toons?” Lyon asked loudly, snapping out of the scent-induced haze to realize she stood at the foot of the stairs, and Nasa's dark pit of despair wasn't what she'd been expecting.
The enormous four-poster bed tucked back against one wall was draped in white bedding, a few black and white geometric pillows tossed in to add some contrast. Giant green ferns spilled over an accent table flanked by huge charcoal gray leather wingback chairs, more cozy blankets draped over the backs.
A few rugs on the cold concrete floors made out of natural fibers gave warmth to the room, and a sectional couch facing an equally huge flatscreen filled up the rest of the space while still leaving plenty of room to roam around.
There were two sets of double doors, one directly to the right of the bed, and another situated beneath the stairs.
The basement was clean, modern, and smelled very faintly of fresh paint.
“Totally. What's your poison?” Nasa replied, sitting down in his command chair before a huge bank of computer monitors, letting Lyon slide from his arms and into a human-sized dog crate built in beneath the desk.
Dillon's eyebrows shot up to see the Spiderman pillows and comfy blankets tossed in the cage, and how eagerly Lyon gator crawled inside with his post-nap snack.
“Scooby-Doo! Duh!” Lyon whooped.
Nasa blew him a raspberry. “Duh! What was I thinking? Here's your cans, man.”
Dillon saw a little flatscreen flare to life inside the cage, and after snapping on a pair of bulky headphones, Lyon flopped onto his belly and kicked his feet up in the air as Scooby-Doo started rolling.
“He seems a little young for crate training.”
Nasa gave a good-natured chortle, swiveling his chair around to face her, looking like a techno god splayed provocatively on his throne surrounded by his web of information.
The blue light from the monitors reflected off his hair, making it seem silvery in the dim light.
“I was dumb and offered to dog sit Athena's last puppy and wound up using the crate for him. Lyon came down and crawled in with Munch, thinking the puppy was lonely or something, and decided he liked it in there. So, now it's his little man cave. What do you need?”
Snared by the intensity of his focus, a sizeable crack formed in the wall she'd put up to contain all her emotional turmoil.
“I need to know more about Ghost. It will help me... settle.” She almost said, 'come to grips with my new reality,' but it seemed more permanent than Dillon was willing to think about right now.
A hard glint turned Nasa's eyes a darker blue. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and from the tightness of his expression, Dillon expected him to tell her to forget it.
To her surprise, he jerked his chin at the couch.
“Have a seat.”
On auto-pilot, Dillon's feet carried her over to the couch, sinking into the plush suede leather. When Nasa got up and headed to the set of doors beneath the stairs, Dillon found herself leaning curiously forward to watch him press his hand to a biometric plate. A beep sounded right before a loud series of thumps, and the doors popped open to reveal
