So clever are the forgeries, even I am fooled for a moment.
The film set looks exactly like the Team Room at Posse Ranch back home in Arizona. Other than the cameras and lights, it's perfect down to the last detail—from the I-Ching on the coffee table to the African spears and martial arts weapons on the walls.
In the middle of it stand Kitty and Bella, my beloved sisters, just like any day in the life of the Willows. I could easily imagine the rest of the family pouring in for a briefing or debriefing—Kenya playing her flute, Buzz tinkering with an invention, Free working on a poem, Leif admiring himself in the mirror.
Not that Leif is likely to show up, since the Poison Oaks have him. Even his mirror-image imposter is dead.
Because I killed him.
And the killing isn't done. Not while the brazen imposters of Kitty and Bella dare to embrace in that diabolical replica of the fabled Team Room.
Not while a single evil duplicate still walks the Earth. This I swear.
For I am War Willow, and this is my warpath.
Rage burns inside me as I perform the menial tasks that let me blend in with the film crew. I can barely hold myself back as I bide my time, watching my target and waiting for the best moment to kill her.
But I do not take it lightly, this killing. As necessary as it is, I know too well the threat it represents to the salvation of my soul.
As I sweep the floor with a push broom, crossing paths with Bella and Kitty, I pray to God to prepare me for my task...and forgive me when it's done. God doesn't answer, but that's all right. I feel His blessing upon me.
I believe in my heart that He, my Creator, is pleased. For would He have made me as I am if He did not intend to love and empower me through even the darkest tribulation? And would He not wish to see His Earth scoured of these vile doppelgängers who seek to ruin the reputations of the finest heroes who ever battled evil in His name?
The answer's a no-brainer. My target will be one, too, when I'm done with her.
The thought of it brings a vision of blood swirling upon me. Through my mind's eye, I see a woman's motionless body sprawled in a crimson pool. A vision of the future, when I have snuffed the life from my despicable target.
Except it's not my target. My vision revolves, revealing another body, and another.
And they are small. Too small to be anyone now around me. There's another one, also small. Make that tiny.
What am I seeing? A vision of the farther-forward future...days or weeks away, perhaps? The distant future?
Or is it the past? Or a figment of my imagination?
I feel light-headed and stop sweeping. As I stand there, leaning on the handle of the broom, I smile and shake my head. It's just the jitters. I'm sure of it.
Thank God Amish Amos Bracken doesn't see me right now. I'd never hear the end of it.
He'd go on and on about the mighty War Willow turning chicken...reverting to the nonviolent ways I learned during my stay among the Amish. He'd tell me I've finally seen the light, and I'm about to start a new life.
But he'd be wrong. This time, the teachings of the Amish cannot overcome the teachings of my Apache and Ninja mentors. I am committed to my mission in every way.
The Poison Oaks will be eradicated. The Weeping Willows will be rescued.
Taking pleasure in the suffering of others is against my code. Still, I look forward to the rest of my warpath because of what waits at the end of it: my reunion with my brothers and sisters.
The thought of that reward returns my mind to the work at hand. I finish sweeping the floor and leave the broom in a corner, then look for Bella and Kitty.
That's when the surprise hits me. Literally.
A woman on roller skates slams into me, hard. She knocks me back, almost down, but I keep my footing...and I hold her up, too.
When she looks up at me, I am startled by her face. She has the same features as someone else I know—the same green eyes, upturned nose, and feathered red hair.
She looks just like Kitty.
In which case, there are two Kitty Willows in this place—her, and the Kitty who walked off with Bella. The Kitty without roller skates.
For an instant, my heart leaps. If there are two Kitties here, could one be real? Could this girl in my arms be my sister, escaped from the Poison Oaks and come to help with my quest?
Not alone anymore. These words are too wonderful to bear.
Then, she opens her mouth, and hope dissolves. "I'm a little fucked up." She giggles when she says it. "Sorry 'bout that."
She's not Kitty. Not even close.
Not only would Kitty never get fucked up, she would never use the f-word. None of us would.
So I wonder, as she skates away, just how many imposters there are for each of us. How many copies will I meet along my warpath?
How much more killing will I have to do than I expected?