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Circle of Assassins, Books 1-4

Over 1200 pages of dark urban fantasy. Ever wondered about assassins? How about supernatural ones who’ve hooked up with bond animals?


If they had one of those anonymous rehabilitation programs for folks like me, my introduction would be, “Hi, I’m Shira, and I kill people.” Except rehab suggests killing people bothers me. It doesn’t.

Neither am I particularly committed to anything other than not being caught. That sounded a shred on the hard-hearted side. I’m not. I’m a lot like you. I get up every morning, clean myself up, and check my phone to see what I have cooking.

Everyone has a job. Mine happens to be ridding the world of people who shouldn’t be here. Not that I’m making those decisions. People hire me, and I trust they’ve done their homework.


The only constant in my long life is murder. Assassin for hire, to put a finer point on it.

I’m an earth wizard. Usually, we’re on the peaceful side. Not sure what happened to me, but I never fit in with my kinsmen. They’d have chased me out of the fold—for obvious reasons—but I saved them the trouble. I left on my own. The same way I left the Circle of Assassins because it was too tame for my taste. Or maybe too structured.


I’m one of the old ones. I’ve lived many lives, done many things. I’ve been called sorceress, witch, and far worse. Mortals have hung me, burned me, staked me out and left me to die. What a pack of fools. I’m immortal, and their petty attempts were laughable.

So were they when I stopped their puny, pathetic hearts. The thrill of ending someone never gets old, no matter how unbalanced the contest.


Power is intoxicating. Anyone who says you can overdo it is either incompetent or a very good liar.

I’ve chased down every scrap of additional magic that crossed my path, drained it, and started the hunt anew. My obsession hasn’t made me much of a companion. I wouldn’t have blamed my bondmate for leaving, but the snow leopard has stuck by my side.


About Ann

I'm basically a mountaineer at heart. I remember many hours at my desk where my body may have been stuck inside four walls, but my soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. There's a timeless element to the mountains. They feel like old friends as I visit them, and visit them again. There's nothing like standing on a remote pass where I've been before and seeing that the vista is unchanged. Or on an equally remote peak. Mountains are the bones of the world. They'll prevail long after all of us are dust. It feels honest and humbling to share space with them. I hope I'm blessed with many more years to wander the local landscape. The memories are incomparable. They warm me and help me believe there will be something left for our children and their children after them.

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