Prologue
Valhalla was the stuff of myths.
Named for the home of the Norse gods, the sprawling compound was a safe house for those people too “special” to be mainstreamed into society (a nice way of saying an orphanage for the children and adults unwanted by their families). Everyone knew that it was a home for freaks.
Witches, psychics, necromancers, Sentinels, and God only knew what else roamed the grounds protected by a layer of powerful spells. It was a source of fear and fascination for the entire world, but most especially for the citizens of the small, Midwest town who could catch the shimmer of blue reflecting off the protective dome that hid the house from view. And even glimpse the rare sight of the freaks entering and leaving the compound, although people were smart enough to spy on them from a distance.
There were, of course, citizens who called for the entire place to be nuked.
The freaks were dangerous, with powers that none of them truly understood. Who knew what the monsters would do if someone pissed them off?
There were others who said they should be locked away and studied like lab rats. Perhaps their mutations could be used to help normal people.
Most, however, preferred to ignore Valhalla and the high-bloods—as they preferred to be called—living behind the dome.
Until, of course, they needed them.