Free Once Bitten by Stephen Leather Page B

But drop the vampire act, OK.”
    She was still pulling against me, her feet slipping on the polished floor. "Jamie, I'm not joking.
    I get a bad reaction to sunlight, honest I do."
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said. “Any more of this and I'm going to bring out my crucifix.”
    She stopped dead and I was surprised at her strength. For a moment I couldn't budge her. I couldn't see her eyes because of the sunglasses but I got the impression that she was glaring at me,
    then she just as suddenly relaxed as if she'd decided to drop the act. “OK, Jamie,” she said slowly.
    “Have it your way.” She let me escort her to the doors and take her out to the steps that led down to the sidewalk. It was early afternoon and the sun was bright enough to force me to shield my eyes as I looked across at her.
    “See,” I said. “You didn't burst into flames.”
    She smiled, and then winced, and then I saw the right side of her face, the side nearest the sun,
    begin to bubble as if acid had been thrown at it. Her forehead began to go the same way, first breaking out into hundreds of small bubbles and then browning like a pancake on a griddle. She put up a hand to shield herself and I saw that begin to go brown and I grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her back inside the building.
    “Jesus, Terry, what's happening?” I said.
    She was shaking uncontrollably and I took her to one of the benches at the side of the room and sat her down. Patsy O'Hara came bowling over, asking me what was wrong.
    “Is there a doctor here?” I asked him.
    “You're a doctor, Jamie,” he said.
    “A medical doctor!” I shouted at him. “For God's sake, Patsy, I'm a psychologist, I've no idea what this is. Get somebody, quickly.”
    “Doc Peterson is in testing a couple of drunk drivers,” he said. “I'll get him.”
    He jogged off to the cells while I sat with Terry. The bubbling had stopped but the patches of brown were still all over the right cheek and her hand and there were small pinpricks of blood on the skin. “Terry, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry,” I said. She just grimaced.
    Patsy came back with Peterson. He pushed me away and sat down beside her, holding her head in his hands and inspecting the damage to her cheek. He took off her glasses and looked at the skin around her eyes and then checked her hand.
    “Vitiligo?” he said to Terry.
    She nodded.
    “Why did you go out in the sun?” he asked her.
    She shrugged. Patsy and I looked at each other and it was impossible to tell which of us looked the more guilty.
    “Don't you normally wear sun protection screen?” Peterson asked.
    “Factor 30,” she said. “It's the only way I can go out during the day. But I didn't have any with me.”
    “You should have borrowed a hat, then. Or stayed inside. You've seen a doctor about this?”
    “Of course,” she said. “I've had it since as I was a kid.”
    “Have you tried steroid treatment?”
    “Tried it but it didn't do any good. He said the best thing to do is to, like, stay out of the sun.”
    Patsy went back to the desk. I sat where I was and wished that the ground would swallow me up. Peterson turned to look at me. He was about ten years older than I was, with a great bedside manner which unfailingly put patients at ease. He was a master at handling people, which is why the cops liked to have him in to test the drunks. He had a sympathetic face, oyster-like eyes and a Mexican moustache which he rubbed occasionally. “You seen this before, Jamie?” he asked.
    I said no, and he held Terry's hand in front of my nose. “Vitiligo,” he said. “It's an immune disorder which stops the skin's pigmentation working normally and makes the skin hyper-sensitive to sunlight. It's not uncommon - about one in two hundred people suffer from it in one form or another.”
    “I've not heard of it,” I said. I looked across at Terry. “I won't forget,” I said to her. She smiled ruefully and put her glasses back on.
    “Is there anything you