"Really?" I asked. I'd never heard much about his mother, except what Bearer was always ranting about on TV.

I felt him nod, then he sat up. "It reminds me of her to hear you hum it." I heard him fumble with his mask. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I replied. "I'm going to go see how Chyna is."

I opened the door and nearly ran into Paul Wight's raised fist. He had been about to knock on the door. He put his hand down sheepishly. "Vince sent me to check on you," he said, "I guess he was worried Kane might have killed and ate you, or something."

"How's Chyna?" I asked.

"She'll live."

The hall was empty. "Where is everybody?" I asked.

"Just about all gone. I get to drive you and Kane," he said, "To the next show," he added when I didn't say anything else. He looked over my head to see what Kane was doing in the room behind me.

"How is he?" he asked in a whisper. I don't know why he bothered to whisper. His voice carries, so Kane probably heard him anyway.

"Shaken up," I replied, "but he's nice and calm now. I'm sure he's up to a car trip."

Paul and I had a soda while we waited for Kane to change clothes. This time the sweat suit was bright yellow. After he was done, we all carried our bags to the parking garage and got ready to go.

You would think that a man Paul's size would rent a big car. That wasn't the case. Three of us were trying to wedge into a compact car. The fact that two of the three were seven foot tall was no help at all. I was stuck in the back seat with the luggage that wouldn't fit in the trunk. With both front seats crammed all the way back, leg room was a distant memory. I got as comfortable as I was going to get and then pulled a magazine out of my bag. It was even the one I had requested. The wardrobe girl would get a thank you note for sure now. Paul looked at me in the rear view mirror and slammed on the brakes. "I know you are not going to read that rasslin� rag in my car," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

He threw the car into park right in the middle of the parking lot. "They are complete crap for one thing."

"This one's got an interview with you," I said.

"Yeah, well those pictures always make my ass look huge," he muttered as he started driving again.

Kane looked back at me and winked. I winked back and opened the magazine. In about twenty minutes, I had read the whole thing. There hadn't been anything earth shattering in it. "Learn anything?" Paul asked, his eyes still on the traffic.

"Yeah," I said. "Your mamma should have washed your mouth out with soap more often, Mr. Pottymouth."

Kane made a noise suspiciously like a snort. Paul looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Like you've never cussed?" Kane made a rocking motion with his right hand. "Kinda cussed?" Paul laughed. "My ass. I've seen you stick the finger at your brother, and that counts as sign language."

I tried to imagine the situation where Kane had stuck the finger at Taker. I just couldn't picture it, but I would take Paul's word for it. We stopped at a motel for the night. Paul and I went to register at the front desk. While we were waiting, I asked him something that was bothering me. "Why do you treat Kane better than the rest of the Corporate team?" I was hoping for a good answer. Big Show could be an overbearing pain in the ass, but for some reason, I wanted to like him.

"They treat him like he's retarded, and people often think I'm stupid because of my size. I can relate to that. They hate his voice and tell him it's creepy. You've heard the Rock do the same to me." He shrugged. "I just find it hard to pick on him."

"But he doesn't talk around you?" I asked. I hadn't told anyone that he talked to me. I wasn't real sure what it might mean.

Paul shrugged. "Occasionally, he vents about something."

"Really?" I asked.

"Here in the past few days it's been you and Chyna. Mostly Chyna," he said.

Big Show must have been on to something. Kane was still upset over Chyna. He didn't even show up for Heat that week. He was off on his own, somewhere. I did know that Chyna had gotten several phone calls from him.

I didn't make Heat either. I stayed at the motel and watched Taker's acting on cable. He did a Poltergeist episode. The show was kind of bad, but Taker's performance chilled me to the bone. I guess it just hit a little close to home with me. After it went off, I sat up for a long time and tried to think up a way to bring Taker down. I had no illusions. That was why Vince was keeping me around. I might just prove useful to him. The problem was, Taker just didn't seem to have any weak spots. The only thing close I could think of was the first inferno match. Kane and Bearer had been after him for weeks. They had dug up his dead parents and I don't remember what all. I think the final straw had been setting his coffin on fire with him in it. He had been an emotional wreck, but that had been before the Ministry. I didn't think anything could get to him like that anymore. If anything could still hurt him though, it would be through his heart, not his head. That was, if he still had a heart.

Chapter Three

Monday, we were in San Jose. On a hunch, I tracked down my sound tech friend, Harvey. He was more than glad to show me his soundboards and mixers, and answer my questions. Boy, did I have questions.

"So, Harvey, if you wanted, could you mix two tracks of music together?" I asked.

"Sure," he replied, "all music is just a combination of tracks anyway."

"But would you have to hear them both?" I asked. He frowned, not getting the question. "Like subliminal," I said.

He scratched his head. "I could do it, but why?"

"How?" I asked eagerly.

"You'd need the first piece of music," he said. I hit the button labeled for Taker's music. "OK," he continued, "now for the other part..." I handed him the tape I had scrounged up that morning. He looked at it and shook his head. "This is one weird combination."

"You can do it, though?" I asked.

"Yeah, but what would we do with it?" he asked.

"An experiment," I said.

An hour later we had it. We were both happy with the final cut. I had his word that the next time he could, he would use our music instead of the original Taker music. Then, we would see if we got any results. I was hoping it would be that night.

There was no way I was letting the stooges push me off in a corner that night. I wanted to see the show, and at that point, I still wanted to be out where the action was happening. After much debate, I got a front row seat and my very own security guard. I was also issued a clearance badge with my picture on it. The only people with clearance higher that mine all had the same last name: McMahon. It's good to know the owner.

My seats were not only front row, but right by the ramp. Choice seats by anyone's standards. It was a shame that on that night all the real action was happening on the other coast. The Ministry was invading McMahon land in Greenwich, CT.

Something about that whole deal stank to me from the beginning, but I couldn't put my finger on what was wrong. I could have sworn Taker was around the arena, but I didn't have that much faith in my feelings. They were still too odd for me to trust.

When Kane came out for his match with Triple H, I knew I had been right. That wasn't Kane. I thought I had the hang of telling the dark from the not. Kane had made perfect sense, I just hadn't seen it at the time. If you couldn't tell the difference, then the dark had you, and it didn't matter. I hoped I was learning fast enough.

I sat still and stayed quiet through the match. I didn't want to draw Taker's attention to me. Vince came out and begged what he thought was Kane, to help him. I don't know why he couldn't tell the difference.

Taker unmasked. Vince was horrified. I held my breath. Surely he would cue his music when he left the ring, and I would see my plan set into motion.

When he set off Kane's pyros and music, I smelled something, and it wasn't the Rock's cooking. Something was going on, and where the hell was Kane, anyway?

I sat through the main event impatiently. It wasn't that I didn't like the match. Three of the four were guys I really liked. Paul Wight I liked. Stone Cold I had always rooted for and how can you not love Mankind? Right then, I wanted to be backstage.

I knew there wasn't a thing I could do, but the action backstage was getting to be a part of my life. When the show went off the air, I still had a job. I had a feeling this was the last time I would want a seat out front.

As soon as the match was over, I pulled out my security pass and stepped over the rail. I was in Vince's office in time to hear the tirade. Everyone even remotely involved was getting their ass chewed out royally. I was sitting on a table in the back of the room swinging my legs idly. "And you," Vince said swinging around in my direction. "What in the hell am I paying you for? Have you done anything about the Undertaker?"

I got a spooky feeling when he said the name. I shook it off. "Actually, I am working on something."

"What?" he asked.

I looked around the room. There were way too many people around. "I'd rather not say. By the way, does anybody know what happened to Kane?"

Vince's mouth dropped open. "My family is in mortal danger, and you're worried about that retard wandering off?"

I shivered and rubbed my arms. I had lost my train of thought. Whatever I had felt before had intensified. I was being called by something.

Vince yelled at me some more. After a few seconds of it, I jumped off the table. "That's it,' I said. "I've got to get out of here for a while." I walked for the door. I just knew I had to get out.

Vince grabbed my arm. "You can't just walk out. The Undertaker is around here somewhere," he said. "At least take Bossman with you for protection."

I shook my head. "Not Bossman."

"Why?" Bossman asked.

"Taker's had you twice, and you've just got away? I don't buy that, and I won't trust you at my back. Besides you didn't do me much good last time."

Vince shrugged. "It's her call. How about Test? He's got bodyguard experience."

I rolled my eyes. He wasn't much better, but at least Taker hadn't had him. "C'mon, Rabbit, let's ride." I left without waiting to see if he was following.

He caught up fast. "How come you called me a rabbit?"

"Looked in a mirror lately?" I asked. "You chew that gum all the time and with those teeth you just remind me of one."

He frowned. "Hey."

We borrowed the limo. I would have just grabbed a car and drove myself, but I wanted the driver's knowledge of the area. "You local?" I asked him.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered.

"Take me to a cemetery," I directed, leaning back on the seat and closing my eyes.

"Which one?" The driver asked. "An old one," I sighed. I was getting light-headed.

I wasn't real sure why I was doing this. I just knew that sitting there being bawled out by Vince, I had been called by something not of this realm. Something strong. The hairs on my arms wouldn't lie down, no matter how I rubbed them.

I knew I was in the right place when the driver pulled up under a security light. I could feel the call. "Is this what you were looking for?" The driver asked on the intercom.

It was the usual fare for the city. It had manicured grass the same stones over and over in rows and the usual "One set of flowers per grave, please� sign on the chain link fence. Normally, I would say that there wasn't anything special to be found in a graveyard like this one, but this time, I knew better. There was something waiting for me out there in the dark.

I got out of the limo. I took a deep breath of the night air. I wasn't sure why I was answering this call. I didn't like doing this sort of thing after dark. This was only the second time I had ever tried it. The first hadn't done anything to recommend the practice, either.

Test got out behind me and crossed his arms. "I'm not going in there with you."

"Good," I said, "I didn't want you to." I opened the gate and stepped through. I latched it firmly behind me. On instinct alone, I wandered though the stones. I found the older section of stone easily. They always drew me.

In this cemetery, they happened to be behind a tree in the far corner. Someone had put a bench under the tree. I sat on it and folded my legs Indian style. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the flicker of presence I had been feeling. I nearly had it, when a voice behind me made my blood run cold.

"You're making this too easy," Taker said. He was leaning casually against the trunk of the tree. I could see his silhouette in the dim glow of the security light.

I was frozen, not sure what to do. He was between me and the limo, and I had no way of knowing if anyone else was with him. I did know for a fact that Midian was at the show tonight with him. I thought the rest of the Ministry was in Greenwich, but then, everybody had though Taker was there too.

"I know what you're trying to do," he said.

All I could think of was the music. I couldn't figure out how in the world he had found out what I had done that fast.

"This is the wrong kind of cemetery to raise power in," he continued.

Oh, I guess he had been talking about something else. "What kind does it take?" I heard myself ask. Why? I didn't even know what he was talking about.

"It takes practice to find them," he told me, taking a step toward me, "It would be easier to just show you."

I slid down the bench to get as far away from him as I could. My brain was screaming for me to get out of there, but truth be told, I was hooked. Whatever raising power was, I was betting it wasn't something I could do before. I'd never had anyone offer to teach me something like that. It made it really hard to pass on.

"Do you really think I'm going to let you teach me the dark arts?" I asked. I hugged my arms to my chest and shivered. I hadn't been cold before, but now I wished it was warmer.

"This isn't evil," he assured me, "You'll see. Come and find out for yourself." He held out his hand.

I know it was stupid, but I took it. I just wasn't able to pass up the temptation of learning what my talents might be capable of.

"What about them?" I asked pointing to the limo.

"They won't even miss you," Taker said with a hint of laughter in his voice.

In for a penny, in for a pound, I guessed. I squeezed my eyes closed and waited. Then I opened them again. I could see the moonlight glinting off his teeth as he smiled and shook his head. "If you want to go with me, you'll have to ride on my bike."

"Oh," I said, disappointed. I had been expecting the teleportation thing again.

He led me to the far fence and stepped over it. On the street, I could see his motorcycle parked under another security light. So much for the boundless powers of darkness. I climbed over the fence awkwardly. Taker waited until I was over to get on the bike.

Could I get on the motorcycle with him and put my arms around him? I had never been fond of motorcycles. To have to ride on one with the Undertaker was just about enough to make me back out of this whole thing.

"Having second thoughts?" he asked. I could hear the dare in his voice.

"Of course not," I replied, swallowing hard. He kicked the bike off, and I swung my leg over the back of the bike and placed my feet on the footrests. I gingerly placed my hands on his waist.

"You have to hold on better that," he said. He grasped my hands and pulled them together in front of him. My cheek was resting against his back. "Much better," he said. "It wouldn't do for you to fall off. I would feel so responsible."

It wasn't long before we left the lights and sounds of civilization behind us. The headlight and the moon were the only lights I could see. I wondered just how far he was taking me. Not that I was really worried anymore. The hum of the engine and the warmth from Taker had lulled me into a daze.

I opened my eyes in surprise when he cut off the engine. "We're here," he said quietly. There was something different about his voice.

I got off the bike and shivered. There was no doubt about it, I was cold. Taker shrugged out of his leather jacket and offered it to me. I was cold enough that I took it without much hesitation. I figured that if I had come this far, what would be the use of freezing to death now?

There was another security light at this cemetery, I noticed as I zipped the jacket. When had they started becoming so common? I would have thought they wouldn't have lights, you know, let the dead rest in peace. I guess in this world, they thought the light would scare people off bent on mischief. I guess not, because we were still there. I wasn't sure what we were up to, but it probably wasn't something most people wanted done around their dearly departed.

Taker was just standing there, watching me. He was wearing a gray pullover and jeans. His hair was pulled back in a French braid. The hair wasn't real masculine looking, but then, who was going to tell the Undertaker his hair looked like a girl's? It was practical for riding the bike anyway. He looked almost like a regular guy. Well, maybe not regular, but more like a normal guy that just happened to be a professional wrestler.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Near where I grew up," he answered, putting his hands in his pockets.

I raised my eyebrows. He was giving personal information. I looked at the gates of the cemetery. Actually, they looked familiar. They were tall wrought iron and arched in the middle. Then again, there are just so many types of gates.

"Let's go in," he said, unlatching the gate and holding it open for me. It creaked loudly. Ah, atmosphere.

He took my hand and led me to roughly the center of the group of stones, and then stopped. Between the light of the full moon and the security light, I could see pretty well. I was betting Taker had better night vision than me, though. Just a hunch.

"Look around and tell me what you think," he said sitting on a tombstone. I felt like I was being tested for something, which was just fine. If there was a test to be passed, I knew the subject.

I've spent a lot of time in graveyards in my life. When I was small, under five, my grandmother used to take me to the family cemetery to help her clean lichen off the stones. It took hours. I had to amuse myself. Hell, I made friends there. I scared the crap out of half the family talking to people they couldn't see there.

Ever since then, I have always like graveyards, and just walking around in them. I like to look at the stones, get a feel for the place, and try to learn the stories there are to be told. It's a weird hobby, but with my talents, it's almost a given.

I started walking around and touching the stones, tracing the names when I couldn't read them. I was just getting the feel of the place. I walked across the graves themselves.

I have two ways of walking in a cemetery. Either I walk on the graves, or avoid walking on them at all. When I walk on them, whatever extra sense I have, I can feel the graves themselves. I can usually even find the unmarked ones.

That night, I was interested in what was under the dirt. It was an active site. Sometimes I wonder if there are really people buried in them at all, but this wasn't one of those. It was filled with creepy spots and the feeling of being watched, some of them damned strong.

"Family cemeteries always have more power. It's due to their linear nature," Taker said, walking up behind me.

That one seemed to be made up of about five families as far as I could tell. A couple of them went back three or four generations.

I stepped on one grave and stopped. "This one's an empty," I said. I knelt down to get a better look at the stone. I traced the dates.

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