The Curse Keepers Collection (46 page)

Sadly, much has been lost about the Native Americans the first English settlers encountered. The English were far more concerned about converting the Indians to the English way rather than preserving the Native American history. I have spent months and months reading books, e-mailing professors of North Carolinian Native American history, and surfing through information on the Internet to come up with a spirit world for
The Curse Keepers
. I’ve pulled stories and gods from several coastal, early Native American tribes to come up with my own creation story.

The story of the Great Hare god and the jealous wind gods is recorded in several books. I also found belief in two creator gods, Ahone and Okeus (pronounced Ok-ee), one good and one evil. However, the story of Ahone splitting himself into two so he could save humanity is my own fabrication. I have also searched early Algonquian languages to come up with authentic Native American words for the names of the wind gods since no names are recorded. I found no record of a flood story, but so many beliefs share this story, I decided to include it in my own creation myth.

The Manitou is part of Algonquian belief. So is the spirit world hell, Popogusso. The idea of pure souls is my own creation. I have uncovered many other demons and monsters in ancient Native American folklore. They will make appearances in future books.

Manteo is a real town on Roanoke Island. Writing about a real town that is relatively small presented a challenge. I visited Manteo in April 2012 but only spent two days exploring the town, Roanoke Island, and the visitor center at the Fort Raleigh National Historic Site. I have a weeklong trip planned for July 2013 to research more of the island, including Wanchese, a fishing village, and the surrounding area, both on the Outer Banks and inland.

When I wrote
The Curse Keepers
, I wanted to capture the character of the town as much as possible, but I couldn’t keep everything exactly the same. I’ve changed the names of many real establishments. If you visit Manteo, you’ll probably be able to figure out most of them.

The Curse Keepers
is rich with history, and it’s my hope that my respect for lost Native American tribes comes through in this book as well as future books.

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

If it weren’t for my best friend and critique partner, Trisha Leigh,
The Curse Keepers
would never exist. When I was brainstorming a new urban fantasy series that didn’t include vampires or shape-shifters, Trisha suggested I come up with something based on the Lost Colony of Roanoke. Two hours of Google Chat later—despite the fact we live ten minutes apart and talk on the phone every day—the plot for
The Curse Keepers
was born.

Thank you to my awesome editor, Alison Dasho, who has worked with me on multiple books and helped me tweak the series synopsis and world building for
The Curse Keepers
. She always believes in me, even when my confidence wavers.

Thanks to my beta readers—Rhonda Cowswert, Wendy Webb, Becky Podjenksi, Marsha Norlock, Christie Timpson, Pamela Hargraves, and Emily Pearson. Rhonda is the best beta reader an author could hope for. She understands the number one rule of beta reading: Friends don’t let friends look stupid in print.

A huge thanks to the citizens of Manteo who answered questions about life in their town when I visited in April 2012. Also thanks to Becky Smith, a resident of Manteo who shared information through e-mail. I tried my best to get life in Manteo as accurate as possible. What I did get right is because of the generosity of the Manteo residents.

And finally, I want to thank my children, who have learned to accept the fact their mom has a different life than most moms. Between the multiple trips, the crazy sleep schedule, and the fact I work every day, Christmas included, they’ve not only accepted the changes in their lives but also give me their full support. They see that I’m living my dream. They can make theirs come true too.

To my father, whose love of early American History sparked an unexpected flame.

C
ONTENTS

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F
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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 prompted, her voice shaky.

He looked into his wife’s worry-filled eyes, barely able to speak. “She’s beautiful, Ellie.”

A single tear slid down her cheek.

Ananias’s chest burned with a joy he had never known. God had blessed him with a beautiful, loving wife and now a child. Inside this stuffy hut, his world was a cocoon of happiness. But he couldn’t forget what lay in wait outside the door. Their new world was one of hardship and pain. He would allow himself this moment of pure joy, for who knew if he’d experience it again in this lifetime, as long or as short as that might be.

He caressed his wife’s cheek, his fingertips trailing over her soft skin. “Are you well? The labor took so long . . . I worried . . . ”

She reached up and pulled his face to hers. “I am well. Just very, very tired.”

Ananias kissed her lightly, as though she might break if he pressed too hard. “You and this child are the most important things to me in the world. I’ll do
anything
to protect you.”

“I know,” she murmured softly. “And it makes me love you even more.”

“What do you wish to name her?” he asked.

She closed her eyes, and he worried for a moment that her exhaustion had rendered her unconscious, but she smiled slightly. “Virginia. I want to name her after her new home.”

If naming her after this godforsaken land brought them luck, Ananias was all for it, but he worried the opposite might be true. Would it bring her doom? No matter, for he could refuse his wife nothing.

Coming to the New World had been proof of that.

Shouts arose outside, and Ananias nearly jumped off the bed, ready to protect his new family of three, but when the door pushed open, his father-in-law’s face appeared in the light-filled crack. “You have born the babe?”