Jas Bond Part One: Jas Bond

By Gretchen S.B.

My life is one giant cycle of group deniability…

As a magic-less son of a witch, owning a store full of magical objects isn't easy. But with my unhelpful rottweiler Bailey and a handful of supernatural staff, we've sold everything from elfin wedding china to a life-size dwarven statue we don't like to talk about. Everything's going smoothly until a goblin customer starts coughing up a disgusting green goo.

Combine that with a weird set of glasses that let the wearer see every type of magic and we have a serious conundrum.

Then I get a frantic call about my dog. Cheat me out of a heck of a lot of money and I'll angrily grumble but come after Bailey and you and I have a problem.

To top off the last few insane weeks the semiannual supernatural auction, where I'm selling a few things, is cancelled when someone sets fire to the building as cover to steal some of the more expensive antiques being sold, including some of mine.

Well, at least there is never a dull moment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gretchen S.B.
• Release date: Dec 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393369097

Gretchen S.B.

Gretchen is a Seattleite that loves her home. She has a day job as a Program Coordinator a local university. She is a struggling Indie Author, struggling as in she is trying to make her living writing books. She loves to read, write and create characters. As well as knit and binge watch Netflix. She is also on a sporadic book blog and internet radio show with some of her college friends. She currently lives with her husband and their mischievous Rotti mix, who always seems to find something new she shouldn't be chewing on. Gretchen loves to hear from her readers.

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Jas Bond

Part 1

By

Gretchen S.B.

Copyright © 2021 by Gretchen S.B.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Works by Gretchen S.B.

NIGHT WORLD SERIES:

Lady of the Dead

Viking Sensitivity

A Wolf in Cop's Clothing

Hidden Shifter 

Visions Across the Veil

Berman's Wolves Trilogy:

Berman's Wolves

Berman's Chosen

Berman's Secrets

Berman’s Origin (Companion Novella)

Anthony Hollownton Series:

Hollownton Homicide

Hollownton Outsiders

Hollownton Legacy

Hollownton Case File (Companion Novella)

Hollownton Loyalty (Mid 2022)

Lantern Lake Series:

Pizza Pockets & Puppy Love

A Flurry of Feelings

Teacher’s Crush

Pugs & Peppermint Sticks

Moving Home for Christmas

Mayor May Not

Building a Holiday Miracle

Jas Bond Series:

Green Goo Goblin

Spectacle Stealing Supernatural

Book Burgling Blood-Magic

Antique Absconding Arsonist

Property Pilfering Pariah

Stand Alone Stories:

The Tongue-Tied Hunter

Poker in Portland

Big City Bachelor

Lone Wolf

Fair Weather Authors

Acknowledgments

THANK YOU TO MY EDITOR Lacie at Pelican Proofing and proofreader Rose David. You ladies made this book readable for everyone.

Thank you to Get Covers for giving this book such a beautiful cover. I want to add a thanks to my beta readers for letting me know this story is worth reading.

As always, thank you to my friends and family who cheer me on as I work toward my dream of being a full-time author.

Last of all, but not least, is the Hubster. Although he hates to be mentioned, he deserves credit for all his support.

Green Goo Goblin

Chapter 1

GREAT, I MUTTER, GLANCING down at Bailey, my ever-present rottweiler sidekick. A goblin. Here's hoping he’s not of the human-hating variety.

As per usual when I speak to Bailey, she turns her head slightly from where she lies on her giant pillow behind the counter. When it becomes clear I am not talking about food, she huffs slightly and goes back to staring at whatever she stares at in the back part of the shop.

Goblins are one of the supernatural species notorious in their hate of humans. They tolerate witches and wizards, but they do so with open disdain. I, Jas Bond, am no such thing. As a male child born to a long line of witches, magic is not something I can wield. For this reason, the goblins who come into my store, as well as several other species, usually don’t try to hide their disdain at my mere existence. Forget the fact they are coming into my store because –oh no– that apparently doesn’t matter. Neither does the fact I am known, like my mother and grandmother before me, for hunting down all sorts of supernatural related items.

As my train of thought begins to derail, the short man yanks open the front door to my shop, Fix ‘n’ Find, sending the bells above the door jingling. I plaster on a strained smile.

Good morning, let me know if you need any help.

He merely grunts and heads toward the far corner of the shop opposite me where I keep two bookshelves of old, enchanted and unenchanted books of various uses. Since we are slow this time of day, I eye him warily over my laptop. I was about to do inventory on several boxes of new items I procured from varying estate sales over the course of the weekend but that can wait. Though it is prejudice, there are several species that when they enter the shop, I don’t want my attention divided.

Oh, I don't believe the goblin will steal anything from the shop, but I don’t want my back to him in case he has a distaste for human life.

The goblin is short, five-foot-even, if he is lucky. He has a plethora of warts across his face and neck. I can see scruffy, scraggly, dark red hair. He is wearing a button up and slacks. I quickly look down at my laptop because like people, outright staring at various creatures tends to make them uncomfortable.

It is not me seeing them as they enter the shop that makes them uncomfortable. It is because I can see the real them that is a problem. Though I myself am not considered a magical creature, I was born from a very strong line of witches, one of the three strongest witch families in the world. I am also my mother's only child. My father was human, and since being a witch travels down the female line, my genes err on the human side. However, I have one weird quirk I inherited from, who knows where, because both of my parents take credit. I can see things as they actually are. Most mythical and supernatural creatures wear some form of glamour so they can walk around in everyday society without alarming the humans of their presence. For whatever reason, as far back as I can remember, I can see through glamour. It was terrifying when I was little, as there are some pretty nightmare-ish looking creatures in the world. As I’ve gotten older, I guess the novelty has worn off and now I know to keep my mouth shut when someone doesn't look like what they seem.

I wear a ring my mother made me on the middle finger of my left hand. If I press the ring with my thumb, I get a glimpse of what the glamour is supposed to look like. That way, should someone ask me for a description, I can give the description that would be most helpful to them, whether that be the human-facing image or their actual nature.

Many creatures in the supernatural world find it a little too disconcerting that I can see through their magic.  I try not to bring it up and in turn, those who know about it pretend it doesn't exist. My life is one giant cycle of group deniability.

How many volumes of Geyser’s journals do you have? the goblin’s craggy rumble comes from the other side of the store.

I rack my brain then curse at myself; within the last year I set up a digital inventory for the shop to make situations like this easier. Honestly, I've had the inventory software three years, it’s only been the last year I broke down and started using it effectively.

Let me check really quick, I call across the store as I click through the inventory program.

I have volumes two, three, and seven. Though I do believe I got either volume one or eleven in an estate sale this last weekend, but I haven't put it in the inventory yet, so I don't remember for sure. Is there a specific volume you're looking for?

I really hope it isn’t three. The people who come looking for Geyser’s Guide to Unicorn Hunting tend to be a little off, and chatty.

The goblin huffs as he lumbers back toward my side of the store. Eight, I'm in desperate need of volume eight.

I quickly push the frown off my face. Volumes eight and nine are almost impossible to get a hold of. That is why people come to me. I have a knack for finding magical antiques no one else can.

By when do you need it?

The goblin’s eyes narrow as he frowns up at me, creating deep wrinkles across his face; I judge his age somewhere in the two-to-three hundred range. As soon as possible.

This time I don’t hide my frown as I look down at him from across the counter. I have a line or two I can tug, but I can't guarantee it will come within the next week or two.

The goblin lets out some distinct and explicit Goblinese curses. Fine. I have one other place I can look. Reaching around for a back pocket, he yanks out a thick wallet and pulls out a business card and slides it against the glass counter before grabbing one of mine from next to the register. Call me as soon as you find any leads. His voice is stern and borders on frantic. He’s clearly angry I can't help him.

I slide his card across the counter and lay it on a small shelf next to me where I have several dozen cards, all people interested in pending orders or items. Turning toward him, I pull my forced smile again. Will do. You'll hear from me either this afternoon or tomorrow morning with an update.

The goblin nods and grunts once before pivoting and getting two steps toward the door. He begins hacking and coughing.

I take a large step back, toward where Bailey lies against the wall.

The hacking becomes so severe even Bailey stands up and trots around the opening in the counter so she can stare at the goblin. She gives three quick barks which sets my adrenaline on fire.

Sir, are you okay? I ask cautiously but I know I can’t help him.

One of the many reasons I adopted Bailey is she can sense active magic. If someone does a spell in her vicinity, she knows about it. If she gives those three quick barks, it means whatever is being done to the goblin is magic and not allergies.

The goblin doubles over, hacking harder. Soon, a thick green foam spews from his mouth with the force of each cough.

Dammit, I mutter as I grab the walkie-talkie from under the counter and click it on. Sven, I really need you out here. Something's wrong with a customer.

The line crackles. I don't want to be involved, answers Sven's absurdly deep brogue over the walkie-talkie.

Sven, seriously, I hiss into the walkie-talkie.

There is a huff. Fine.

Sir, are you okay? I'm calling the paramedics. Our type of paramedics, I qualify so he knows I am not calling human EMTs. Because who-knows-what would hit the fan if that happens.

I throw down the walkie-talkie and wrench my cell phone out of my back pocket before hitting the supernatural hotline I have on speed dial in my phone.

Supernatural helpline, what is your emergency?

This is Jas Bond at the Fix ‘n’ Find. I have a goblin here coughing so hard that instead of coughing up a lung, it's a foamy green liquid. I don't know enough about goblin anatomy to know how bad that is. I try to keep my voice calm, but unease and panic are setting in. And I hope whatever it is isn't contagious.

Thank you for that information, sir. I am dispatching two emergency personnel now. They should be there within the next fifteen minutes. Is there anything else I can do for you?

I hate calling the supernatural hotline; for whatever reason supernatural beings live so long the idea of emergencies doesn’t seem to register with them.

Not unless you can help this guy through the phone, I respond frustratedly.

All right then, have a good day, she answers chipperly before hanging up.

Disgusted, I put my phone down on the counter and begin rummaging through one of the top drawers behind the desk. I have a collection of health pendants somewhere in one of the drawers. My ex-fiancée gave me a handful of them before we broke up.

Aha! I exclaim as my hand clasps around one of the ruby red and gold pendants. I slam the door shut and run around the counter, catching myself before I trip over Bailey who decides to move between my legs mid-step.

Take this. The man has now coughed up so much bubbling green foam it can fill the small trashcan I keep behind the counter.

The man seems too distracted to hear me, so I reach across the puddle and pry open his free hand, ignoring the scratch I get across my palm from his overly sharp nails and smash the pendant into his hand, re-curling his fingers around it. I watch as the amulet glows bright, getting brighter the longer he holds it.

Well, this can't be good, Sven comments from where he now stands next to me.

I didn’t hear him coming from across the shop, so I jump when he speaks.

After several seconds, the goblin’s coughing slows and the liquid stops coming out of his mouth, for which I am extremely grateful, because now that I am standing here, the smell is getting to me. It is something between wet dog and microwaved fish.

Do you know what would do that? I murmur to Sven.

Sven shakes his head as he strokes his long beard, making the two beads hanging in it clack when they hit each other. No. But my knowledge of magic isn't great. At least not this type of magic.

We both stare at the goblin as his coughing slowly turns more toward wheezing. I look away from him long enough to glance at Bailey, still standing, peering around the counter. The expression on her face and the fact her hackles are still up concerns me. Normally once magic subsides, she goes back about her business. The fact she is still watching sets off warning bells in my head. Not to mention the smell is getting stronger and I have no idea what the best way to clean whatever it is up. I don’t even want to think about how long it is going to take to clear the smell from the shop.

Thank you, I am in your debt, witchling, the goblin wheezes, slowly standing upright again.

My lip twitches at the somewhat derogatory term for a witch’s offspring who is not themselves a witch. But I don’t comment. Getting into an argument with a man who appears to be cursed probably is not in anyone's best interest.

The bell above the door jingles and I pivot, getting ready to tell whoever it is that they need to stay outside. But when I see two tall, wire-thin elves in emergency medical personnel jumpsuits, I step aside.

The older of the two, whose hair is cropped human-short stares at the mess on the floor, as if contemplating how to get to the goblin without stepping in the muck.

Sir, if I can get you to stand, step around the puddle, and come back to the van with us, we’ll see if we can help you out. Neil, get a sample of the green stuff. The older elf motions to the younger elf then points at the ground.

It appears they don't know what it is either. Sven's slight Scottish accent wafts through his words.

Without a word the younger elf, whose blonde hair is up in a bun at the top of his head kneels down and rummages through the bag to get a sample. At the same time the older elf turns, opening the door for the goblin.

He has one of my healing medallions. It seems to be the only thing stopping him from puking up more of whatever that is, I call over the older man's shoulder as the goblin takes a large step over a corner of the green puddle.

The elf’s brows furrow before looking at the goblin’s hand holding the medallion.

I'm guessing that's a quick fix medallion? He looks at me, raising one eyebrow.

I shrug. It was a gift; I have no idea.

The elf’s frown deepens as he ushers the goblin out of the storefront and toward where they parked across several spots in front of the shop.

I step farther back and nod for Sven to do the same. I want to make sure I am completely out of the way and I secretly hope if we step far enough back, we won't be caught up in that smell. As it is, I am certain it is stuck in my thick black hair and all my clothes for the foreseeable future.

Do you have any idea what does that to a goblin? I ask Sven, who as far as I know is several hundreds of years old and has much more experience with supernatural creatures than I do.

The dwarf shrugs before folding his arms across his wide chest. What about me says I'm an expert on goblins and their innards?

I let out a huff and inwardly shake my head. Sven has a knack for going out of his way to be unhelpful. I don’t know whether it is a dwarf thing or a Sven thing but in the two years we’ve worked together, I still haven't gotten completely used to it.

Hey man, you and I both know you're older than me. You've been around the block a few more times. It's a fair assumption you've seen more than I have.

Sven looks away from the puddle on the floor and locks eyes with me, he nods. 'True, but no, I don't believe I've ever seen a goblin vomit up green foam that smells worse than anything the rottweiler produces.

As if knowing Sven is referring to her, Bailey wiggles over, her long tail wagging as she leans against Sven.

The older man begrudgingly gives her a couple pats on the side before continuing, If I were you though, I would close up the shop and call for a containment unit to clean it up. Since we don't know what that is, it's probably best to let people with some magic defenses get rid of it for you.

I take my eyes off Sven and look at the green liquid still bubbling and I feel my own stomach contents churn at the sight of it. Looking back to Sven, I nod. Yeah, that's a good idea. Can you take her to the back of the store with you, so she's not tempted to ... I don't know, try to eat it?

Sven raises an eyebrow before looking at Bailey then looking back at me. I do believe the dog is smarter than you give her credit for, but just in case, I'll take her back. He pivots, snapping his fingers twice to get Bailey's attention and walks back toward the small office he uses to fix and tinker with items customers bring in for fixing.

Tail wagging, Bailey obediently walks behind him. They turn the small corner and I hear his office door open and close behind them.

Now that I am alone in the store, I give a heavy sigh and look back to the disgusting liquid; the smell has now permeated to where I am standing.

Great, I mutter as I pull my phone back out and re-dial the supernatural hotline.

Supernatural helpline, how may I assist you today? comes a southern drawl.

Yes hi, this is Jas Bond owner of Fix ‘n’ Find in Renton, Washington. I called earlier for paramedics about a goblin who was puking up green foamy vomit. I have reason to believe it is magic-induced vomit. I am hoping to get a containment unit out here to clean it up since we don't know exactly what the substance is or what caused it and I would like to be able to have customers enter the building.

There is silence for several beats before I hear clacking, letting me know the man on the other side of the line is hitting keys.

Looks like I can have a containment unit there with you in one to two hours. Does it appear to be eating through the floor or spreading in any way?

I ground my teeth at the lack of expediency, but don’t express my frustration. No, it appears to just be sitting there and bubbling. Not spreading, shrinking, or drying for that matter. But the smell is spreading and it's pretty foul.

There is more clacking. Is anyone feeling any adverse side effects to the inhalation of the substance?

The smell is pretty bad and getting worse, but no, unless they take time to develop, my colleague and I are not showing any side effects.

You are set for one to two hours. I recommend leaving the premises if the smell gets to you. Otherwise hang tight and have a nice day.

I growl as I slide the phone back in my pocket and look at the foaming pile again. One to two hours, and what on Earth am I supposed to do with one to two hours? Letting out an exasperated curse, I turn toward the back of the store to get my wet floor signs so I can at least rope off the area. I also prop the door open to get a breeze, then crack the back door. Not for the first time, I am frustrated the three large windows at the front of the store don’t open.

Once I am certain I have done all I can do until the containment crew gets there, I move toward the back of the store and drag out a couple of the boxes