[By Thimble and Needle] Match In the Haystack

A concerned father seemed unsurprising in the area these days. However, information was neither helpful nor direct on that front. Nevertheless, he could glean; he wasn't the first parent concerned about the recent rash of crimes. More interestingly, he wasn't the only one concerned about his kids. Alecto was able to piece together that families within or around the Summerlin area seemed concerned about Teens staying out late or sneaking out.

Perhaps these observations were fueled by the recent rash of crimes, but it was enough to stir a buzz. A brief check on 'Next door' showed an increase in parents reporting and keeping an eye out at night for young folk in the area. Most of which were knee-jerk fear reactions, worries of theft, or the 'neighborhood degrading.' But it seems these reports were becoming more regular, and many adults were becoming more consistent in keeping their neighbors and fellow parents appraised.

Notably, Alecto began to pick up a pattern of house parties reported and broken up by local neighborhood watch and vigilant parents. Primarily teens, drugs, and alcohol, of course, but the common connector is a descriptor of 'Loud', 'screaming,' 'terrible' music being present. However, the recent crackdowns seem to have made this rotating party less and less frequent.

When asking around and web surfing grew tiresome, the beast moved to investigate the crime scene.



She had hoped for a better angle, but the sizeable convex safety mirror at the Alley entrance would have to do. The mirror had seen better days, holding on to dear life to the bent pole. Signs of damage etched its face, likely from trucks backing into it for unloads. But it had a good look over where the events transpired.


Time folded in on itself, refractions multiplying into a prism of overlapping moments before Alecto found the evening of the Mugging. As the report said, a woman in her late twenties worked late for the local shops. She had stepped out to throw out the day's trash when four figures emerged in the dark of the Alleyway. The four assailants had emerged from the darkness of the far Alleyway. They were of varying highest, each wearing street clothes and hoodies, concealing their faces with scarfs or handkerchiefs. Alecto couldn't help but feel like the image felt fake, as if these teens had seen it somewhere in a movie and replicated it. She couldn't hear what had happened, but the moment was short. Soon the victim had given over an older wristwatch before her assailants turned to run back the way they came.

Two things stood out to the harpy at that moment. First, there was another teen, at the back of the alley, just out of sight, obscured from the mirror. This stood out as the official report had only mentioned four. The second detail would have been easy for anyone to overlook if it hadn't been for Alecto.

The teen who took the watch bore three rings upon her hand. Rings Alecto had purchased months earlier, a gift to her middle daughter. The recognition felt like a weight on the beast's stomach. Perhaps it was another girl who had similar tastes? The changeling knew that would almost be too convenient.


The visions passed, leaving Alecto within the Alleyway, back in the heat of and light of the daytime. Moving to the back of the Alleyway to where the teens made their escape, Alecto found the next mystery of the events of that night. Unfortunately, it was a dead end.
A nimble teenager could climb to the single floor roof above, boosted by a friend or the nearby trash cans. But that didn't match the reports. A Lost or a Hob could easily scale it; hell, even a jump could do. However, something catches the Harpies' eyes.

Bending down to the brick wall, she discovers a vivid green chalk residue. The dust lingers mainly along the bottom of the wall, where the bricks meet the asphalt. But her keen eye picks up a small half circle, mostly now faded drawn to about waist level, with a touch, and a little glamour, Alecto Keens that the chalklike substance was magical. Perhaps a loophole to a contract? or maybe a token of some kind?

Alecto could tell the muggers were nervous, and anxious. Not surprising, most muggers were, but there was something off about them. There was a need or hunger for the items demanded of the victim, almost like an animal back into a corner, defending itself by attacking.



The strange chalk tingles at the touch, reminiscent of the feeling of seltzer water on the lounge, yet dry. The world cracks, and for a moment the dust from the chalk seems to pour through their vision. A plummeting well to the before. Her vision sharply comes into focus, there is a young boy, maybe twelve years of age. His scarf has fallen ever so slightly from his face, as he forgets to pull it tight.



The child is watching the mugging in action further in the alley. He crouches low, his feet tapping nervously on the ground. At first the child seems normal, short curly brown hair, dark hazel eyes, ever so lightly bronze skin. That's when Alecto notices his left hand, gripping the chalk. Running up the side of the hand on to the forearm, are what she first mistakes as large boils. No, not boils. An irregular pattern of clustered fissures protruding from the flesh. The growth, seeming emerged from the skin like calcified wounds, exposed into open tiny craters. A dark oozing bubbles at their mouths, drifting into the air like ink in water.





The child idly scratches at the angry infection, idly as he watches in rapt concern for the crimes being committed. In a moment the older kids were springing towards him. Swiftly the chalk moves across the bricked surface of the wall, chipping away stray chunks from its form.



Once the door is formed. Three knocks are given before the wall swings open like the door on a doll house. Within was the mouth of a narrow but deep tunnel. The walls of created by haphazardly strong cloth, reminiscent of a pillow and blanket fort children would make. But the cloth is sewn from an array of stained, mildew fabric. A brief glances reveals shirts, blankets, pant legs, and other fabric items.



In moments the thieves and child doorman are through the hedge gate, which seals behind them.



Alecto vision blurs and stretches pulling her back into the here and now. The chalk it seems opened hedge gates to what looked to be some sort of trod, perhaps of goblin origin. 

It was displeased. The intrusion was prodded and pulled at it. The fetch chewed upon the information, the taste of it in her mouth displeasing and agitating.

There was anger, distrust. Would she believe her stolen counterpart? Or see this as a trap? Or would like Alecto, her motherly instinct drive her, to heed the warning?

What came next was a flair of searing contempt; in moments, a searing image of the family burned into the back of Alectos mind. There was a commotion, a rush; Alecto could feel her other's blood pumping; her heartbeat pulsed in time. Then, there was a second image clearer than the first.

It was Shelby's phone. A series of texts from someone called Nick.

Monicas painted nails clutched the phone before tossing it back down on the bed. The Imposter mother stared at herself in the mirror, at Alecto.

The mind's eye imagery passed, and slowly the seething anger of the fetch passed. She was leaving the beast to her feelings.