Victor Bayne, the psychic half a PsyCop team, is a gay medium who's more concerned with flying under the radar than in making waves. He hooks up with handsome Jacob Marks, a non-psychic (or "Stiff") from an adjacent precinct at his ex-partner's retirement party, and it seems like his dubious luck has taken a turn for the better. But then a serial killer surfaces who can change his appearance to match any witness' idea of the world's hottest guy.

In 1960, a superfood was invented that made starvation a thing of the past. Manna, the cheaply manufactured staple food, is now as ubiquitous as salt in the world's cupboards, pantries and larders. Nelson Oliver knows plenty about manna. He's a food scientist–according to his diploma, that is. Lately, he's been running the register at the local video rental dive to scrape together the cash for his outrageously priced migraine medication.

When the light-magic users known as Casters took everything from me, I vowed to make them pay. Little did I know the perfect opportunity would show up in the form of a sweet Caster the moment I took his arrow to the heart…literally. Bastian knows that I’m made of dark magic, the very thing he’s been taught to destroy. But instead of turning away from me, he takes a chance on me, leading me behind the walls of the group out to kill me.

Mark Hansen thought working as artist’s assistant would be glamorous, especially if that artist was a vampire. Black tie events, witty repartee, gracing the pages of the local style section. Didn’t happen. Not even once. Jonathan Varga is an enigma. True, he’s quiet, generous, and scrupulously polite. But he has zero social life, refuses to be interviewed or photographed, and insists he can only consume feline blood.

Everett Larkin works for the Cold Case Squad: an elite - if understaffed and overworked - group of detectives who solve the forgotten deaths of New York City. Larkin is different from others, but his deduction skills are unmatched and his memory for minute details is unparalleled. So when a spring thunderstorm uproots a tree in Madison Square Park, unearthing a crate with human remains inside, the best Cold Case detective is assigned the job.

A psychic without an anchor. A student in trouble. A shooter on the loose.I’m Jonathan Bane, a licensed psychic who consults for the police. I routinely help the police put the bad guys away and, for that reason, the criminal world doesn’t like me much. People like to take a swing at me, or go stabbity, or try for a gun. It makes for interesting times. My psychic ability prevents me from handling anything electronic—and I do mean ANYTHING, I fry it in seconds—so calling for help isn’t always a possibility.

One mage: Bel Adams–part demon, gun shy about being rejected by one again, needs a familiar. One familiar: Nico di Rossi–Army Ranger, needs a change of pace and a new purpose in life, is a golden retriever in human form (though not literally). Plus one familiar: Garen Dallarosa–Secret Service, part gargoyle, needs his ex-lover Nico back.

It’s really hard to pretend like life is normal when you’re staring a monster in the eyes, though he’s both tempting and irritating in his human form. I put my days as a hunter behind me, unable to cope with the death and pain anymore, to become an upstanding citizen and for what? To assist Lake, a man who claims he’s not a monster but keeps talking about me like I’m edible and–even worse–wants to woo me?

Samuel has one goal in life: fix his broken core. What does he not want? A bossy, overprotective, possessive, teasing dragon sticking his nose in business that is not his. Even if he is sexy and supports Samuel on his quest to find the lost Sousa Mage Clan. Utterly beside the point. He does not need a dragon boyfriend. (Un)fortunately, Dimitri disagrees.

Though I was born with the ability to see the dead, I struggled with it until my brother was killed and his ghost was left behind. Now, I’m determined to figure out who is responsible for his death…the problem is that Detective Maddox Booker, the one working the case, is a grumpy and stubborn man who wants nothing to do with me and definitely doesn’t believe in ghosts. It doesn’t help that I keep finding myself looking ridiculous in front of the detective, thanks to interfering ghosts who enjoy laughing at my expense.

When the Summer Queen summons Parker to her court, the private investigator knows there’s trouble brewing. Trapped into compliance by his past debt, he’s tasked with locating a missing girl in San Amaro. Now he has to find the girl or give up his life. Things only get more complicated when a very familiar cop asks Parker for his help on a case involving murdered magic users. With the victims completely drained of their magic, the San Amaro Police Department needs Parker’s special skill set to track down a killer.

Spencer Bailey has spent his entire life under government oversight for something he can’t change: his magic’s affinity for breaking souls. After surviving the end of the world, Spencer joins the Supernatural Operations Agency with the intention of keeping his head down and his hands clean. Tasked with tracking down a stolen artifact, Spencer wants to run his first case with the SOA by the book. The master vampire of the Seattle Night Court won’t make that easy.

Xander Corey lives simply, sustainably, on the outskirts of Osprey, a small, quaint town in Upstate New York. He’s a librarian when the town’s budget can afford him, a good friend, kind neighbor, and also, a witch. And while that’s of no concern to anyone around him, there are others, non-humans, who have a vested interest in Xander’s family land. Xander knows something dark and dangerous is brewing. He’s just not quite sure what.

Getting into the vampire-only detective unit was the easy part. What’s going to be more difficult is dealing with my new partner - an ancient vampire who keeps threatening to eat me. The unit has never had a human in it. Marcus - or, as I like to call him: Fangy McFangface - would really prefer to keep it that way. He’s grumpy, short-tempered, and broody, but I have a way with words, and I know he’s starting to like me, even if he swears he’s not.

Conor: It starts with a drunken text pic. The kind I would normally never send. Only, instead of it going to the flirty hotel bartender, it goes to some random stranger who actually responds. Wells: The first thing I notice about Conor Newell when he sits down in my high-rise conference room is how delightfully nervous he is. Then I see his tie. The same geeky tie that’s held hostage on my phone. The one that belongs to my anonymous late-night texter. And it changes everything.