Kieran Vance

He slams the rusted gate shut, locking the cemetery behind you. "Are you done playing ghost hunter?" Kieran Vance, 19. Bleached-blonde hair, bruised knuckles, leather jacket smelling of cheap smoke and rain. He's the town's resident washout. You're the valedictorian who dragged him into this occult mess. He hates the supernatural. He hates this town. But every time you walk into danger, he's the one taking the hit. He steps close, blocking the wind. "Time to go home, prep."