Witchbane by Morgan Brice

Author:Morgan Brice [Brice, Morgan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Darkwind Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond was a huge tourist attraction, a beautiful final resting place for generals, war casualties, presidents, and legislators, as well as movie stars and celebrities. Landscaped, manicured, and filled with amazing monuments, the cemetery was a poignant reminder of how far grieving families would go to immortalize their lost loved ones.

“So we’re back to another super-haunted site,” Even said when Seth turned off the bike out of respect just inside the cemetery gates. They got off and walked with the Hayabusa, removing their helmets and heading toward the center of the cemetery.

“So the big pyramid over there?” Evan said, pointing to an unmistakable landmark. “People say they hear moans from inside and feel cold spots near it. And over that way,” he said, pointing in another direction, “there’s an iron figure of a dog next to the grave of a little girl and legend has it that the dog moves around the cemetery.”

Seth kept them heading for the first of Valac’s burial plots as Evan continued his trivia tour. “And the Pool mausoleum ahead of us is one of the most famous hauntings. It’s supposedly the home of the Richmond Vampire.”

Seth stopped in front of the large rectangular mausoleum. “Richmond Vampire?”

“Remember that Church Hill Tunnel collapse I told you about?” Evan said, and Seth gave an ambiguous shrug. “So there was a famous railroad accident back in 1925. The tunnel collapsed onto a train, and some of the passengers didn’t make it out. A few of the workers escaped, but the cave-in was too big to try to rescue the others. Witnesses said they saw a hideous man who didn’t look human leaving the tunnel and that he hid in the Pool mausoleum. They said he was a vampire. The legend stuck.”

Seth parked the bike and moved up to look inside the mausoleum’s wrought iron grate. “It turned out that the man people saw was a railroad worker who was badly burned,” Evan said. “He died. People say the ghosts of the dead passengers are still trapped in the tunnel.”

“Huh. That’s interesting,” Seth replied, taking a last peek inside the tomb before walking back to the bike. He opened the cemetery “find a grave” site on his phone and typed in a name. “Valac’s first grave should be that way,” he said, pointing to an older section of the grounds.

They walked the bike back to the rows of old, weathered stones. “There it is,” Seth said, parking the bike and walking across the lush grass to a dark headstone in the shade of an old oak. He read the inscription aloud. “Corson Valac, 1872-1912. Looks like this is it.”

Evan stared at the gravesite and the unbroken carpet of grass that covered it. “Doesn’t seem like it’s been disturbed in a long time.” He looked beyond the graves, out across the carefully tended lawn and the collection of angels, urns, pillars, and obelisks that marked the burial spots of Richmonders across the years.

On prior visits, Evan

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