This Place is Death (A Curse Keepers Secret) by Denise Grover Swank

C HAPTER O NE
    Ananias Dare had expected August in the New World to be hot, but this was how he envisioned hell—full of heat and raging tempers.
    His cotton shirt clung to his back and arms and sweat rolled down his neck, making his collar scratchy, but the cries of the infant coming from his shelter sent prickles down his spine.
    He was a father.
    “It’s a girl!” Agnes called out from behind the thatched walls.
    Several men slapped Ananias’s back. “Well wishes, Dare!”
    “Maybe a son next time,” gloated Tom, the father of three sons.
    A girl. Pride and happiness swelled Ananias’s chest, but fear kept it contained. He wondered for the countless time what had possessed him to come to this godforsaken land. Why had he allowed his father-in-law to coerce him into crossing a damn ocean? The promise of a land rich with possibilities had been a lie.
    There was only death in this place.
    After a four-month voyage from England, the one hundred and seventeen voyagers had arrived on Roanoke Island less than a month ago. The natives were infuriated by the colonists’ presence, and they had already made their feelings known by killing Ananias’s friend, George Howe, six days after the settlers came ashore. Fear ran rampant because the Indians refused to consider a peaceful coexistence.
    How long would it be before more died?
    Roanoke Island had never been their true destination. Ananias’s father-in-law, Governor John White, had set his sights farther up the Virginia coast in Chesapeake Bay. But White had insisted they stop at Roanoke Island to collect the fifteen soldiers manning the fort the English had set up on their last excursion. All the search team had found was a deserted complex, overgrown with vegetation, and a single skeleton. There’d been no sign at all of the others. The news had spooked Fernandez, the fleet’s commander, and he had immediately insisted the colonists be sent ashore.
    Despite Governor White’s insistence that the fort’s complete annihilation meant nothing, the colonists weren’t stupid. They knew this place was full of death and danger, but they had no choice in the matter. The two ships they’d arrived in bobbed offshore while the sailors prepared the vessels for the return voyage to England. The sight taunted the colonists because the captain refused to let them back on board or to take them farther north, saying it was too late in the summer. And now it was too late to plant the food that would help them survive the winter. They were stuck. And they were in dire trouble.
    A sound came from the hut and Ananias snapped to attention. A tired smile covered Agnes’s face when she stuck her head out the flimsy door. “You can come in and see them now.”
    Ananias took a deep breath before ducking his head and entering the sweltering shelter. His wife Elinor lay in the bed, her head slightly propped up. She held a wrapped bundle to her chest.
    The corners of her mouth lifted slightly at his entrance, her face pale from exhaustion and physical exertion. The delivery had not been an easy one, and the sight of her sent relief rushing through his body.
    “Do you want to see her?” Elinor murmured. There was no apology in her voice. They had discussed the possibility of a girl, and even though most parents coveted boys, especially in this rough and foreign land, Ananias thought all children were a blessing from God, no matter their sex.
    A lump lodged in his throat as he sat on the edge of the makeshift bed, straw poking the backs of his legs. Elinor pulled back the linen to reveal a tiny red face, her cheeks puffy and her head slightly pointed. The shape of her crown ignited worry, but his wife laid her delicate hand on his arm. “The shape is no need for concern. Agnes says it is elongated from the extended labor and will soon become normal.”
    Ananias nodded, relieved. Tears burned his eyes as he reached his hand toward the babe’s face.
    “Say something, husband,” Elinor