Meg nodded. Arurariel…that was definitely an angelic name. If she remembered correctly –iel meant something like “of God” but she’d never spent much time studying the old languages. She was a creature of the present most of the time, and what didn’t help her now wasn’t worth knowing. And, more importantly, he had said his father liked the name. That made his father the angel and his mother the demon. That made sense, she supposed. She wasn’t sure an angel inhabiting a female vessel could create life. She had heard stories of angelic children, but it usually spoke of angelic fathers, not mothers. Demons on the other hand…they’d been pulling that kind of trick for centuries. How else did you explain the cambions that periodically popped up throughout history whenever “the end times” looked to be approaching?
“You know, I spent a long time in Hell. I might know your mother,” she said, taking a step closer. She didn’t point out that he’d let that bit of information slip. She wasn’t sure if he was even trying to hide it particularly. What she said was true, there was a very good chance she knew the mother, assuming the mother was anything beyond a low level grunt. Judging by the kid’s apparent age, the mother would have to be at least a few hundred years old just to make it to the surface. Meg’s money was on much older, therefore her odds were good. Knowing who she was didn’t help, particularly, but she was curious. She was damn curious. What demon would sully herself with the touch of God?