Finally some emotion peeked through that hard demeanor, but not the kind that Nix was looking for. “You were ashamed of me?” Nix asked, hurt etching her words. Why had it taken so long for her to realize that? She’d just thought Betty had been uncaring, not the nurturing type. It had never crossed her mind until now that her mother had been embarrassed by her own daughter.
“Of course not.” Betty turned and picked up her wineglass and took a long swallow, refusing to meet Nix’s eyes.
Nix stared at her for a minute while memories dashed over each other like burgeoning waves of the ocean. “When I was five,” she said in a soft voice, “I gave my grandmother a birthday card I’d made myself. Do you know what Nana did?” She paused. “She tossed it in the trash. When I was ten, I taught myself to sew and made her a dress. I did a good job, too, spent hours and hours on it. I got the prettiest wrapping paper I could find, scrounged around for a box, and wrapped the package. I was so anxious about how she’d react when she saw the dress. Would this finally be the time she’d be proud of me? Accept a gift I’d made with my own two hands?” Nix drew in a breath and held it. Even after over a decade the memory still had the power to hurt.
“What did she do?” Her mother’s voice was as quiet as Nix’s had been.
“She didn’t even open it. She just went over to the trash can and dumped the wrapped box, then walked out of the room. I gave up on pleasing her after that.” Nix shrugged, trying to look nonchalant when the memories sliced her to shreds inside. She picked up her purse. “I guess I went out of my way to prove she was right about me, about everything. I made sure that I was just a good-for-nothing daughter of a filthy whore demon.”
Betty’s lips firmed. “Is that what she called you?”
“Every damned day. Usually more than once.” Nix slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder. She rooted around for her car keys, then looked at her mother. “Would you answer my question, please?”
Betty glanced to one side. “Luc hasn’t sanctioned a blood feud, officially or otherwise.” A car door slammed in the driveway and she arched an eyebrow. “You can ask him yourself.”
Crap. Nix wanted to talk to Lucifer Demonicus, the Lucifer, even less than she’d wanted to come see her mother. But while the driveway of Betty’s house was long enough for two cars to park, it was narrow, which meant Lucifer had just blocked her exit. She couldn’t get out. She was trapped and about to come face-to-face with the devil himself.
Two seconds later the front door swung open. A tall man, slim hipped and broad shouldered with black hair, olive-toned skin, and dimples, strolled in. “Honey, whose car is that out in the drivew—” He caught sight of Nix. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Yeah. Hi.” Nix watched as her mother went up to Lucifer and gave him a long kiss on the mouth.
“You’re home early,” Betty murmured, leaning against his side.
He had one long arm around her waist, hugging her closer. “I missed you today.” His voice was soft, intimate. He placed a kiss on her forehead and then glanced at Nix. His face hardened. “So to what do we owe this pleasure?” His black eyes looked anything but pleased, and his voice was no longer gentle.
“She’s here about the slayings,” Betty said before Nix could open her mouth. “Can I fix you a drink?”
“Not right now, thanks.” He walked with her to the sofa and they sat down. Betty cuddled up against him, her shoulder tucked under his arm and one hand resting on his thigh.
Nix fought back hurt at the tender way her mother dealt with Lucifer. Why couldn’t she have ever dealt with her own flesh and blood that way? Of course, Betty was a succubus, so to be placating and gentle with her lover was probably second nature. Maybe that’s why she didn’t have a mothering bone in her body—all her nurturing instincts were set aside for males.
With a small sigh Nix took a seat in one of the armchairs. “I need to know if you’ve sanctioned a blood feud against vampires,” she said to Lucifer.
His black brows went up. “Don’t tell me the council thinks we’re behind these deaths.”
“They think you’re behind everything,” Nix said dryly.
He gave a mischievous grin. “So how is it you come to ask me this question?” He crossed his leg and idly swung one Italian loafer in the air.
Nix leaned forward, clasping her hands and resting her elbows on her knees. “At each of the last two scenes I’ve smelled the scent of demon.”
“You mean ‘we’ have smelled, don’t you?” Betty asked. Without waiting for Nix to respond, she turned to Lucifer and said, “You’ll never guess who the vampire liaison is on this case.”