Geisha Assassins Novels & Stories

The blade struck the shield with a deafening crack, sparks of silver and black energy exploding outward, illuminating the bloodied faces of Gale, Levi, and the guardians. The assassin recoiled, its borrowed body convulsing as the void eyes widened in surprise. "The Shadowed One... claims you," it hissed, its voice a chorus of whispers from the abyss. But Alina's shield held the bond with Gale amplifying it, his golden aura weaving through like threads of sunlight reinforcing the night. Gale lunged forward, his claws rending the assassin's throat in a swift, brutal arc. Black ichor sprayed, the body crumpling like a discarded puppet, the void eyes dimming to lifeless gray.

I have so many unanswered questions about this mysterious assassin. I spent the next week preparing for the formal event while also gathering what I could about assassins that were known. None of the information told me anything. I got a few well-known female assassin names. The number one was Phantom Reaper, second was Blade of Bracken (named after this city, Bracken’s Rock), and third was simply Death. Not very original, that one. By evening, it’s time for me to attend this despicable gala to network and attempt to secure funding for my next research project. I dress sharply in a black tuxedo, my white dress shirt is crisp, and I wear a neatly knotted black tie. My hair is usually always a

Assess. The hands on me. They were firm, but… there was a difference. I’d spent years in a world of men; their grips, their shifts in weight, the way they manhandled you. All the people I’d put down had been men. These hands, even through gloves, lacked that… heft. The pressure was distributed differently. Softer bones. Women. An assassin? Doubtful. Their movements were clumsy and were fueled by nervous energy, not cold precision. No, this wasn’t professional. This was personal. They weren’t here to kill me; they wanted to scare me.

“Hold the line! Do not scatter!” Saraphina moved like a flame unbound. Each strike was swift, deliberate, not wild. But even as bodies fell, more shadows pressed in through the doors and windows. The assassins were many. Too many. She caught a glimpse of their eyes through the masks — cold, lifeless, bound to orders without question. These were not thieves or mercenaries. They were the council’s sharpened hand. One assassin slipped past the fray, blade arcing for her throat. She ducked, the steel grazing her hood, and drove her knee into his gut before slashing him down. Another came from behind, and Lucian’s sword cleaved him away before he touched her.

Anima sounded rather upbeat. "Your rung on the Ladder of Heaven is not high," Estere commented to Anima. "Your outlook is not promising either. Silence is your best option, so exercise it." "Cáel, do you know this woman?" Libra had begun piecing things together - as in - my life was so crazy that women with guns showing up was much too common an occurrence. I thought about 'Yes Honey, she's a member of an 11th century mystic order of Nazri Ismailis assassins. In fact, her people gave us the word assassin'. Telling the truth at this juncture didn't seem wise, so...

She smiled and nonchalantly continued with her task. She had the aura of an assassin and yet an elegant noble personality. There was a strange tattoo on her wrist, it was the symbol of the organisation tattooed to her own skin. She was part of them. After a few more minutes of clicking sounds coming from the keyboard, the screen flickered to life, revealing classified information that could bring the Williams down if it were to get leaked to the general public. It had information on his underground business, his killings and dirt accumulated by his company all these years. Her smiled widened with a bitter edge to it, as her lipstick glittered in the dim light.

He wasn't going to kill her… at least not yet, not until he's gotten reasonable answers from her. “I-I don't know, but it was instinct.” She stammered before gaining her voice back. “Instinct? What kind of maid instinctively knows how to handle a glock?” he asked suspiciously. His eyes raked her body from top to bottom. Alina was undeniably beautiful. Even with her hair cut into a bobbed hairstyle, it matched her sharp features more. Her lips, cheeks and nose had this permanent flush that made her look innocent — completely hiding the fact that she's a bred assassin.

They wanted a wedding, I’ll give them a wedding remuneration for making me scorned, alright. I sprang up on my feet to pace the carpeted floor when I heard giggling on the other side. Snapping open the door, I came face to face with three women, all dressed to satisfy fetishes. One in a bunny barely-there lingerie, one in dominatrix get up, and the last was a redhead in a seductress attire. The redhead with the bold persona came closer coquettishly, biting her luscious lips. She grabbed the left lapel of my suit and seductively, coed, “Sir, we—“

She said and I wasn't surprised. I knew she was wasn't a regular person. I knew she was up to something. I knew she knew too much for her own good. "I am a free assassin," She said and it all made sense. Free assassin never worked or belonged to a clan, they get hired to work for an important mission and after that they are discarded even if the Mission failed. They had an immortality card. "I would not kill Mason if you tell me where my child is," I said and she nodded her head slightly.

“The heiress to the Henderson group. But, that is not the main thing. She got married two weeks ago.” “Who sent you?” “We don’t always know who our clients are, remember? But, her husband wants her dead for all I know too.” Mason twitched his lips upward as he bored his eyes on the woman. Mason smacked and raised his brows, “But, have you forgotten?” “What?” He stood up, dropped the picture, and then dipped his hands into his pocket, “I don’t always take on jobs like this.” “We don’t always have a choice, Mason.”