Free Mutiny by Artist Arthur Page B

really. “Done deal.”

Chapter Two
    I suppose it makes sense to have another plan. If there was any better example of how circumstances can change in the blink of an eye, it was Charon. One day, he was going about his business, bartering souls for more power, hoping to gain enough influence to enter the earthly realm once again. In the next moment, he was banished and exiled from every realm except Trance, the Underworld and the Majestic. Now he was making sure that even if his circumstances changed, he had someone waiting in the wings to take his place. That someone was a teenager from the very town where his enemies flourished. His plan might have seemed foolish at first. But Charon was not a fool, and he did not make mistakes. Everything he did was by design. And this boy—Franklin Bryant—was part of that design.
    Franklin did not know it yet, did not fully understand the impact he would have on this world. But that was why Charon was here—to guide him, to teach him what it means to rule. While he would never be stronger than Charon, Franklin had the potential to be more powerful than he was now. He just had to embrace that power.
    Charon had a feeling it would not be long. He knew what Franklin’s weakness was, knew how he would be tested in the coming days. What Charon did not know for sure was what Franklin’s final decision would be. Nasiel, the reaper, would try to influence that, to make sure Franklin had the guidance he needed. Nasiel was a faithful servant, as was Lor. They would watch over the boy, keep him focused on Charon’s mission and make him aware of the tragedy that would befall him should he make the wrong decision.
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    It feels like toothpicks are sticking in my eyes when I open them again. But that’s a welcome feeling, since I’m lying in my bed, waking up from a fitful night’s sleep. Sitting up, I look around, making sure everything is exactly as I remember it.
    The bookcase along the wall is full of books. My closet door still has the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue calendar hanging on it. My desk, computer, window with the blinds half-closed, boxes of sneakers that are neatly stacked in my closet are still there, as is my bed and me.
    Everything’s just as it should be.
    But it’s really quiet.
    Turning so I can see the LED-lighted time on my alarm clock, the numbers seem to be just a little brighter than they were before. It’s eight fifteen. I am late for school!
    Jumping out of bed, I switch on the lamp on my nightstand and head for my closet. I spare a quick glance at the long lean legs, rounded bottom and big boobs plastered on the calendar of the closet door before opening it to grab some clean jeans. With the denims and a shirt over my arm, I go to my dresser, grab my underwear and toss everything on the bed. A quick scan of my shoe boxes and I find the Jordans that match my sky-blue Polo shirt, pull them out and place them on the floor beside the bed.
    Then I quickly head to the shower, knowing I’m already going to miss homeroom. I’d at least like to make an appearance in my first-period class. If I don’t, Mr. Hamilton will freak and call my dad. And then my father—Walter Bryant—will definitely freak.
    Dad’s like that—a total wuss about everything, especially school. Since the divorce five years ago, when my mom decided that raising a kid was too much of a hassle for her and my dad got sole custody, we’ve been more like roommates living in a bachelor pad—and our house isn’t a bachelor pad by a longshot.
    Dad rarely dates. And when he does, it’s always some stuck-up, thin-looking chick with cotton balls for brains. He doesn’t even pretend that he cares about them. It’s all about his job as a weatherman and this research he’s been obsessed with since my grandfather died. Still, he finds time to police my schoolwork, so I’ve gotta hustle to make it to