His breath blew me off His finger with the force of a stellar nova. I clung to as much of me as I could, falling and tumbling and twisting and spinning until I fell into a brilliant red light. It enveloped me, warm and revitalizing.
I sat at a card game (rather low in the chair). Other players sat beside me. At my right elbow (which lay on the table to my left, along with a section of one of my legs) quivered my pile of savaged flesh.
The other players bid portions of their own mounds as the betting progressed. I must have had beginner's luck. I won a piece of Martin Cann and the left lobe of Donovan's brain. I also won a chunk from somebody's buttock. I gave it back and left the game. I wasn't like Ann-I couldn't stand to see a poker player lose his ass.
For an hour or so, I sat at a table putting myself back together. I had nearly finished when a Stranger sat down beside me. He was tall and lean and dressed to riverboat-gambler's perfection. Long white hair flipped inward at the nape of His neck.
The Stranger pulled three cards from His vest pocket. He started to toss them about-face down on the table. Each one had a single perfect, sharp crease down the midline.
'Do you trust Me?' He asked casually.
I tried to follow the motions of His hands. His fingers crossed over one another at times, so I couldn't quite follow the cards. I shrugged and looked at Him.
'Why should I trust You? You've never shown Yourself before. You've given me no cause to trust You.'
He nodded amiably, though still aloof. 'You don't have cause to mistrust Me then, either.' He flipped over a card. King of clubs.
'I've played this game for a long time,' He continued. Another card flipped over-king of diamonds. 'I win, I lose. Mostly I win.' He eyed me with a noncommittal gaze. 'You look good enough to beat Me. But you've got to trust Me. Otherwise, you don't stand a chance of winning.'
'If the game is straight,' I said, 'what would it matter whether I trusted You or not?' I tapped the last bit of skin into place on my body and leaned the whole patchwork mess back in the chair.
'If you don't trust Me, you lose.'
'And if I trust You, I win?'
He smiled. 'I didn't say that.' He took another calculating glance of me. 'I only said that you can't win if you
'
'And if I refuse to play the game?'
He flipped over another card. The ace of spades.
'Then,' He said, 'I'm afraid you still lose.'
'Sounds like a sweet racket.'
The Stranger shrugged. 'It's kept Me going. And it keeps My boys in chips.' His fingers danced around the cards as He nodded at the men behind Him.
Half a dozen of His boys stood along the bar, grinning at me. They wore gamblers' clothes, all right, but their faces were all familiar.
The Ecclesia.
'It's a healthy game to play,' the Stranger continued. 'But you've simply got to trust Me.' The cards sped over one another at an increasingly blinding rate. He flipped one card over to show me the ace. Following the card was useless-He pointed to it, turned it over, revealed the king of clubs.
'Don't try to follow the game,' He counseled. 'Just trust Me. I wouldn't cheat you. Trust is the basis of the most sublime relationships.' The Ace popped up again, got moved around, and became the King of Diamonds.
I tried to concentrate.
'Just pick a card,' He said, the soft shuffling sound on the green felt blending hypnotically with His voice. 'Just pick a card and trust Me. There is no other game. There is
'
