Nocturnal Revelations

by Amanda S Green

  This time, instead of a fire fight, once the aid workers were located, the squad split into several different groups. One group shifted into various jungle cats, ocelots, jaguars and one cougar. They slipped into the shadows, circling to the far side of the camp. The rest of the squad readied their weapons and moved in as close to the tent where the aid workers were held as possible.

  Their signal was the sound of a jaguar’s scream. It was followed by mayhem as the cats raced into the camp, keeping well away from the actual target. They drew the kidnappers out and away, giving the humans time to complete the rescue. When a whistle sounded a few minutes later, the cats disappeared into the depths of the jungle, leaving the camp in an uproar. By the time they realized they’d lost their captives, the squad with the freed aid workers was on their way to the rendezvous point with the helicopter that would take them to safety.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I want to make this perfectly clear,” President Montford said when Flynn stepped away from the podium. “The men and women you have seen are different from us, but only because their DNA gives them the ability to change their forms. They are no danger to us.

  “Before you ask, you don’t become a pure by being bitten or exposed to their blood. Pures are born, not made. You can’t catch it. Their DNA carries a slightly different genetic coding from those of the rest of us. They are human and more.

  “They are also free men and women who have dedicated themselves over the centuries to doing whatever they can to keep our nation strong. They represent a very small percentage of our society, less than two percent. They don’t want to take over. They don’t want to cause trouble. They want to live their lives as they have before word of their existence came to light.

  “And we are going to let them. Yes, as President, I will ask some of them to go above and beyond from time to time and, like Gillian Edmonds, they will do so without thought to the personal cost. We owe them our thanks, as a country, for all they’ve done. The best way to do that is to leave them their anonymity. If they want to identify themselves, they will. But the government will not force them to, nor will we compile a register of who carries the genetic coding that allows one to become a shapeshifter.

  “However.” Now the President’s expression turned serious, his voice hard. “Those like the lycans at the school who break our laws will be brought to justice. Just as they have been from the first moment they appeared a little more than a century before. We will not allow them to endanger normals or pures.” He looked around the room, letting the cameras pick up just how serious he was.

  Mac leaned back and blew out a breath. There was more from both Montfort and Flynn but she paid little attention. Now she understood why she’d seen little of her grandmother over the last twenty-four hours. Ellen and the rest of the Tribunal had to have been working non-stop to try to contain the problem. Fortunately, Montfort happened to be one of their kind, something she hadn’t known until recently.

  Damn, but life had gotten complicated the last few years.

  “Are you all right?” Jackson asked softly.

  She nodded. Then she sat up so quickly he looked at her in concern.

  “Mac?”

  “Those sneaky bastards.” She had to give it to them. They had framed the news in such a way the public would make a subconscious identification with lycans as evil thanks to Hollywood movies.

  Jackson looked at her, his brow furrowed.

  “Jack, they made it dogs vs cats. No, they made it a cute little cat against a big, mean dog.” She laughed. “Werewolves against animals they’ve seen on TV and in zoos. The things of nightmares against the real.”

  It was brilliant, even if it meant they would have to figure out how to let the world know pures shifted into more than just the smaller—and cuter—members of the feline family. But that was something to be considered later. For now, she had other things to worry about, not the least of which was what to tell those under her command at DPD. At least she didn’t have to make that decision right away.

  At least she hoped not.

  Still, she’d learned long ago to expect the unexpected and she couldn’t help wondering what life had in store for her next. . ..

  Author’s Note

  There comes a time when every series must come to an end. When I first wrote Nocturnal Lives, I never anticipated it turning into a multi-book series. I certainly hadn’t expected it to be six books and a novella. Mackenzie Santos has been a part of my life for a decade. Saying goodbye to her will be difficult.

  But this isn’t goodbye, not really. It is the end of the current story arc. There are more stories to be told. After all, the world now knows monsters exist. The question becomes who are the real monsters and how will the normals react to knowing their neighbors turn furry?

  So, yes, Mac and company will return in the future. When? I’m not exactly sure. However, story ideas are already coming to and we’ll see where they go.

  Until later.

  Request from the Author

  It has long been said that the best form of advertising is word of mouth. That is especially true when it comes to books. Friends and family members trust reviews and suggestions for books that come from people they know.

  That word of mouth goes even further in this digital age. If you enjoyed this book, do me a favor. Spread the word. Tell people on your various social media accounts. Leave a review on Amazon. If you’re a blogger, write a post about it. All that does help. Besides, it is the one way we, as authors, know you really enjoyed our work.

  Thanks!

  About the Author

  I'm older than twenty and younger than death and that's all you'll get from me about my age. After all, it's not polite to ask a woman how old she is. I'm a mother, a daughter and was a wife. I've spent most of my life in the South and love to travel. The only problem with that is my dog always thinks I've abandoned him when I do and it takes weeks to reassure the poor thing and my cat resents the fact I came back before he could figure out a way to kill the dog and hide the body. My house is haunted - it is, really. I swear it. What else explains the table that plays music and the light that comes on by itself? - but it's mine and I love it. Okay, I'm a little strange. But that makes life interesting.