A Very Hades Christmas!

As I was putting the last ornament on the tree, I suddenly knew you-know-who was there. I didn't turn around but fussed over the ornaments, making sure they were perfectly spaced.

"Hades, why are you here at my house?" Luckily my parents were out Christmas shopping. It would be hard to explain Hades' presence.

"Sharisse, mon cherie," came that voice that suggested the whisper of silk sliding off skin (he wished!). "I merely wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and give you a gift of my esteem."

Even though I knew I shouldn't, I turned around to face him. While I was desperately in love with Caz, Hades' nephew, something about this dark god gave me an illicit thrill. His wavy dark hair, his mysterious brown eyes--and that sleek, taut body that invited Bon Apetite! if I listened--were always a temptation. He was kind of like an exquisite, custom-made-to-order pair of shoes from Stuart Weitzman; the fit would be perfect, there would be none exactly like it--and I couldn't ever afford to give into the desire.

But that still didn't stop me from sneaking a peek.

He lounged in the doorway in his favorite pose, one shoulder against the frame, arms and legs crossed, his eyes glittering--and his luscious mouth quirked in a slightly sexy, mostly arrogant grin. Irresistible.

The Beast.

Pull yourself together and focus...

"Huh. Your gifts are too expensive to accept, Hades. Last one almost cost me body and soul. The Trojan Horse was a better deal." I started gathering the empty ornament boxes. He snapped his fingers and everything was tidy--he'd even cleaned the spot on the rug from who knew what spilled--and I think he did the windows, too.

It was hard not to love a man like that.

But I didn't.

And he was no man. He was Hades, Lord of the Underworld, Greek god.

And not to be trusted.

"Thank you," I said politely even if a bit cool.

He frowned. "I don't like your attention elsewhere when you're in my presence."

That's my Hades: it's all about him.

He waved a careless hand and two cups of frothy hot chocolate appeared, with extra marshmallows, the square-cut, homemade kind I looooove so  much.

He knew how to seduce a girl, and sometimes, you just can't refuse no matter how hard you try. I took the cup and lifted it in wary thanks. He held up his left hand.

"I swear there's nothing devious in the drink or my motives."

Were oaths sworn with left hands binding?

"Want to sit?" I asked gesturing toward our couch.

He graciously inclined his head, said "Thank you," and then practically sat in my lap. I had to scooch over a bit. "Unless..." and his eyes sparkled, "You'd like to have lunch in Gstaad? The slopes are perfection. I checked before popping in here."

"How thoughtful," I murmured before sipping my confectionery addiction. Mmmm. Dark, not milk chocolate. Hades knew me well.

And yet, he didn't give up trying to seduce me even though I always refused. I'd think it was just a game he wanted to win (the girl who plays hard to get) but he was so intense--and relentless.

"Thanks, but no,"I said. "What would Caz think? He's already rescued me once from your clutches. Throwing myself into your company might make him think I was playing one against the other." I put the cup down, licking the marshmallow off my top lip.

His eyes followed.

It was time to find out what he really wanted, refuse, and send him on his merry way to torment someone else.  Last thing I needed was for Caz or Persephone to drop in too. That could be awkward.

"Let's be honest for a change, Hades. Just tell me what you want. No games." His cup, along with mine, disintegrated into thin air and he leaned closer. I could barely breathe. Even so, I wasn't going to back away.Once you gave in to him, he owned you: figuratively, literally, physically--and eternally.

"Fine." His gaze held that intensity I so feared. "I want you."

Yeah, I know that. NOT happening.

I started to open my mouth to give the sweetest kiss my gluteous that I could when he stopped me.

"I'll give you ANYTHING. You want the Hope diamond? It becomes the Sharisse Johnson diamond. You want immortality? You won't age even a second. Name it."

Now most people might be tempted. Even considering I was a shopoholic (with limited funds), and yes, I liked pretty, pretty things, I didn't want anything. I had my parents, I had Caz, I had friends, and I was in the school of my choice, the Fashion Institute of Technology. No, there was nothing more I needed.

But...

"Anything?"

He slapped his hand over his heart and his fervent look told me he truly wanted the, er, pleasure of my company. "ANYTHING." His voice was almost hoarse.

If there was no limit... should I refuse? What would Caz think? Would Persephone find out? Even if she did, I knew that I'd be under Hades' protection; he was a gentleman that way at least.

I deliberated. One special gift. Only I could ask for it and get it.

I was going to do it. Sometimes, sacrifices had to be made.

Straightening my shoulders and taking a deep breath, I said "Okay."

His eyes widened and I swear I heard his indrawn breath. "Tell me what you want."

"No more war. Ever. Eternal peace on Earth."

He flushed and jumped up, scowling fiercely at me.  "You can't ask that! It has to be for you!"

Standing abruptly with fists on my hips, I glared right back at him. "You said 'anything.' And it's what I want. I have friends and a cousin who are serving in the military. I know people who have lost family due to wars. Children die when nations go to war. No more war. Ever. That's what I want."

Hades ran his fingers through his beautiful mane, more agitated than I have ever seen him. "Can't you ask for something material? Or to be forever youthful? That's what most people ask for."

I eyed him coldly. "I'm not most people. That's why you're so obsessed with me. And besides, it's Christmas. Time to think about and help others." I know some people considered me shallow because I liked to have my nails done, look perfect, and be popular, but I had a conscience and wanted to do good.

He shook his head sadly. "I can't do that. There's a thing called free will. I can't interfere with it. I believe it's the basis of your own faith. Humanity has to decide for itself, like you had to agree to our initial contract."

I felt deflated. Here I was going to put myself on the altar of Hades' lust for a noble cause, and I was turned away.

At least I tried.

"There's nothing else I want, Hades," I said softly, knowing that if he couldn't give me world peace, then he couldn't abolish disease, pain, suffering, and other ills that plagued us insignificant mortals.

With sad, soulful eyes, he whispered, "Not even a new kitty?"

I laughed. True to form, Hades didn't give up. "Tell you what," and I grabbed his hand so we stood under the mistletoe. "Just one, promise?"

Back came his arrogant smile. "Just one."

I narrowed my eyes. "And no whisking me off anywhere, no three hundred year kiss, no telling Caz, no trouble for me, got it? Or I'll tell Persephone." With a resigned sigh, he nodded. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him in for a very seductive, memorable kiss. When I moved back, he was breathing hard. He nodded, actually speechless.

I heard the key in the door--my parents were home!

But he was gone.

My cat, Chanel, came running into the room, a new pretty silver bell on her collar and a note. I pulled the note off. It read:

          My Darling Sharisse,
          I'm sorry I couldn't give you the gift you wanted, although I'm not surprised you asked for it. And           I know you won't accept anything from me, even if I promise 'no strings' but I can give you this-
          Look out your window.

          Yours eternally,

          Hades

I moved over to the window; snow fell softly, already a thin sheeting on the grass, trees, street and rooftops. He was giving me a white Christmas.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"The pleasure was all mine," he whispered back.



And so I wish you all a very Merry Christmas, a healthy and happy 2014, and a dream come true.  To one lucky random person, I'm giving away an audio copy of Sirenz. Just put your name in the comments, tell your friends, family, etc. I will notify the winner before the New Year (you have plenty of time, but why wait? You might forget...) One entry per person.

Char
                                      

I'm Waiting....

You know who I am.

But in case you're slow-witted and forgot, live in a dank hole and don't know, or had your brains eaten by a zombie, I am Hades. Ruler of the Underworld. Eldest brother to Zeus and Poseidon. Greek god. And besides being the best looking, best dressed, and best everything, I am also The Boss.

For certain individuals anyway.

Tomorrow is International Bosses Day.

That means I will expect accolades, gifts, adoration, and whatever else I can get from my minions and those whose contract is still enforceable. (You really didn't think the Sirenz got off after only two assignments, did you? No.)

So look for celebrations and praises for ME from my Sirenz Margaret and Sharisse, and my biographers Nat and Char.

I would encourage you to emulate them.

You never know when I could show up, offering you a deal. And it always helps to be on the boss'es good side....

Hades

I'm not in a position to argue with the 'Boss' man...

Char

A Matter of Perspective

Ahh, autumn. Nature's palette of fiery reds, yellows, oranges, pinks, and almost every color in between, create a storm of astounding color. The poking, prying fingers of chill winds seek to insert themselves under skirts, over cheeks, and into eyes. We snuggle into thick woolen sweaters, waterproof boots, and down laden jackets.

We seek comfort in hot chocolate, spiced coffees, and flavored brandies. Frost on our car inspires us to bake breads and pies, roast turkeys, mix up a batch of cookies.

We look forward to cuddling up with loved ones in front of a campfire or fireplace, beloved pet at our feet, feeling safe and warm and blessed.

Don't you have a cozy feeling? Aren't you feeling good?

I'm not.

My pool is closed.

There are blankets on my bed. The flannel jammies are under the pillow. Sweatshirt goes where I go. My hands and nose are cold. The cat has stopped shedding (okay, that's a good thing). My garden is dead.

Anyone who knows me, knows THIS is me:

But I can write about autumn and make you think I like it because I try to think from the perspective of people who love it.

Just because I write something doesn't mean that it's me. I can write about villains and bad things people do and that doesn't mean it's what I want to do. I'm just looking out from a different perspective.

Can you stand away enough from something to see the opposite perspective?

Char

So Not The End Of The Road

He was driving way too fast.

That was the opening line in my novel Crash and Burn. A contemporary ghost story that has evolved from the first novel I ever wrote, The Recalling. It started out as an adult book (sexual content). First, the word count was too low. So I stretched it. Then other projects came up: never to be published picture books, magazine articles that did get pubbed, and then my middle grade novel, Evolution Revolution: Simple Machines (not pubbed). Then came Sirenz, Sirenz Back In Fashion (Flux), and now, Blonde Ops (Thomas Dunne, 2014).

I'm always working on several projects because now that the older kids can drive themselves and I have just the youngest, I have more time. True, I'm out of the house going places six, sometimes seven days a week with fencing, math tutoring, bell practice, and tournaments,and let's not forget family visits and holidays that keep me busy, but I do find I have more time. So I work.

Having completed yet another revision, I sent Crash off to my beta readers. They suggested some changes. Good, because I knew there were holes and fresh eyes always help. I revised and sent it to my agent, Natalie Lakosil. She loved it BUT it was still rough, which I knew, and she listed some changes. No prob. I made the changes, sent it back. It came back with major change suggestions. I incorporated all but one which would in no way work. Sent it back. It was returned with a 'meh.'

Of course I fumed. I made all the changes! I revised, edited, reread, had others do the same. The novel was much better than when I first sent it. Why the 'meh' now?

The answer I got was that editors are 'tired' of paranormal and want contemporary stories.

Oh please.

They said that about vampires years ago, and yet I still see them being published. And they're not all fabulous. Then the editors were tired of werewolves. Yep, they're still coming out. I don't see paranormal going away any time too soon because it's just too popular. And by the time I get a contemporary novel written, polished, and submitted, I'll hear that they're tired of contemps. You can't win playing the 'what's hot now in the market' game because you'll always be behind.

So what do I do if my agent doesn't want it? Throw all that work away? I've actually heard some agents say that if they don't like it, that's the end of the road for that novel.

I think not.

I'll keep working on it. My critique group just read it and I know they'll have great suggestions. When I go to an SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators) conference, I'll get a critique by at least two editors. And it they don't like it? I'll put it away for a bit while I work on more promising novels.

If I'm lucky, I'll have an editor say, "I've read your books. Send your manuscript to me." Or my agent will say it's time to bring it out again.Or, I can always self pub down the line.

One thing is for sure; to quote Mr. J.R.R. Tolkien, "The road goes ever on."

Char