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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.

Dixon Penn’s family wasn’t terribly shocked when he announced he was gay, but they were devastated to learn he’s the only one without the gift of spellcraft. Fortunately, that doesn’t stop spellcraft from reaching out to him. Dixon’s prospects have gone from bad to worse, but a contest at the biggest greeting card company in the tri-state area would be just the thing to turn his luck around. Yuri Volnikov is determined to keep the charming contestant out. But Dixon has always been a sucker for big guys with exotic accents, and he won’t take no for an answer.

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.

Victor Bayne honed his dubious psychic skills at one of the first psych training facilities in the country, Heliotrope Station, otherwise known as Camp Hell to the psychics who've been guests behind its razorwire fence.

Criss Cross finds the ghosts surrounding Victor getting awfully pushy. The medications that Victor usually takes to control his abilities are threatening to destroy his liver, and his new meds aren't any more effective than sugar pills. Vic is also adjusting to a new PsyCop partner, a mild-mannered guy named Roger with all the personality of white bread. At least he's willing to spring for the Starbucks.

Victor Bayne's job as a PsyCop involves tracking down dead people and getting them to spill their guts about their final moments. It's never been fun, per se. But it's not usually this annoying. Vic has just moved in with his boyfriend Jacob, he can't figure out where anything's packed, and his co-worker is pressuring him to have a housewarming party.

Thanksgiving can't end too soon for Victor Bayne, who's finding Jacob's family hard to swallow. Luckily, he's called back to work to track down a high-profile missing person. Meanwhile, Jacob tries to find a home they can move into that's not infested - with either cockroaches or ghosts. As if the house-hunting isn't stressful enough, Vic's new partner Bob Zigler doesn't seem to think he can do anything right.

Dixon Penn has done his share of traveling and is ready to settle down in the city where he grew up. Yuri Volnikov has finally found a place he can call home. But their idyllic life together is threatened when a mysterious buyer starts scooping up properties in Pinyin Bay…and not with the intention of sprucing things up. To add insult to injury, the buyer is using Spellcraft to get what they want.

Usually, when Victor Bayne is called upon to investigate a ghostly apparition, the “haunting” can be chalked up to a perfectly mundane cause. When he’s sent to check out some suspicious phenomena in small-town Iowa—and no one seems unduly alarmed—he’s hoping for more of a weekend getaway. Especially since he’s bringing along Jacob as his Stiff.

Do clothes make the man? Jacob Marks cuts an impressive figure in his tailored suits, but Victor Bayne is another story. Nowadays, Vic does his ghosthunting in off-the-rack blazers, polyester blend slacks and cop shoes with nonskid soles. But back before he was a PsyCop - or even officially psychic - he rocked combat boots and a beat up biker jacket, and lots and lots of punk T-shirts. When he finds a faded tee in the back of a drawer, he's eager to lob it in the trash.

Fierce. Audacious. Independent. Curtis Ash can't be bothered to settle down. He's too busy enjoying his cushy job as a high-paid stylist, caught in a whirlwind of hookups, parties, and obscenely priced cocktails. The only snarl in an otherwise charmed life is the salon's hotshot colorist, Red Turner. Not only does Red put the whammy on customers and rake in all the big tips, he's oblivious to Crash's flirtation. But there will be plenty of time to win him over - or so Crash thinks.

For the past dozen years, Victor Bayne has solved numerous murders by interrogating witnesses only he can see - dead witnesses. But when his best friend Lisa goes missing from the sunny California campus of PsyTrain, the last thing he wants to find there is her spirit.

Everyone enjoys peace and tranquility, and Victor Bayne is no exception. He goes to great lengths to maintain a harmonious home with his partner, Jacob. Although the cannery is huge, it's grown difficult to avoid the elephant in the room...the elephant with the letters FPMP scrawled on its hide. Once Jacob surrendered his PsyCop badge, he infiltrated the Federal Psychic Monitoring Program. In his typical restrained fashion, he hasn't been sharing much about what he actually does behind its guarded doors.

Psychic medium Victor Bayne is well acquainted with pharmaceuticals, from the Auracel that blocks his ghosts to the Seconal that offers him a blissful night's sleep. But he's managed to steer clear of street drugs…so far. Jacob Marks has a medicine cabinet filled with every over-the-counter remedy known to man, but none of them are doing much for his mood - and his long, fruitless days of combing through records at The Clinic are taking a heavy toll.

Although Victor Bayne is a valued asset of the FPMP, he still vividly recalls his PsyCop days: the eye rolls, the nasty looks, and the occasional utterance of the words Spook Squad whenever he showed up on a scene. So he really should empathize with Howard Jibben, the weekend lab manager known as Heebie Jeebie.

After years of frustration as a PsyCop, Victor Bayne reports for duty at the Federal Psychic Monitoring Program. As a fledgling agent, he’s ready to smoke out a few ghosts and be home each night in time for dinner. But is he prepared to add a professional dimension to his romantic partnership with Jacob Marks? Jacob has already established his territory in the Program - he’s competent, he’s respected, and he’s pretty much fearless. The last thing Vic wants to do is screw up in front of him.

Victor Bayne never saw himself as husband material, but after an undercover stint as half of a married couple, he’s willing to give it a shot. Jacob Marks was eager to settle down from the get-go, so once Vic popped the question, the wedding should’ve been smooth sailing. But new evidence has come to light that casts a pall over the whole affair: decades of psychic experimentation and intrigue. Vic would hardly be shocked to discover he’s been an unwitting test subject, but it’s not his name on the roster.

Few people would willingly spend the night in a murder house, but Victor Bayne is up for the challenge. He’ll do whatever it takes to get a look at his permanent record, including going undercover in a townhouse where a recent death took place. Why not? There was no foul play involved, and as a psychic medium, he’d know if a ghost was creeping up on him. The whole “murder house” claim is just a product of a kid’s overactive imagination, and he’s confident he has the situation under control.

Daniel was a hotshot memorysmith, a major innovator in the field of recreational memories - until his father, Big Dan, suffered a freak persistent memory that sent their business into a tailspin. Now Daniel labors behind the scenes, seeking only to cure the persistent false memory and salvage their failing shop. Elijah is the most talented mind in the memory industry, but his potential is wasted teaching beginners at the mall. When his cobbled-together gear projects him into one of Daniel’s memory programs, a colorful but challenging relationship sparks to life.

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.