So there we were, living in a tiny studio apartment between the artsy district and the tracks, holding our first child, Jin, just an hour after birth.  The midwife had come and gone and we were staring and the faint glow coming off of our first child with a bit of consternation.

“You,” I said, feeling far too calm (it had to be the tea I’d brewed for childbirth), “are not a wizard.”

Sage raised those eyebrows at me.  “You are not a witch.”

We’d both known it for a long time, of course, or at least suspected strongly.  You don’t go into a relationship with someone while they are still in school at a prestigious institution for wizards or witches and not notice a thing or, and if that hadn’t done it,the forms we’d each chosen for the wedding vows might have, or the family members that did and didn’t attend the wedding.

It was one thing to know, however, and another to be faced with incontrovertible proof.  Our child was glowing.  Human babies did not do that, at least not in any text I’d read (and later consultation with Sage reported that his readings said the same).  The expression of dweomer-hood, was, as best understood by the intersection of magic and science, a recessive gene.

I considered the situation.  We had both gotten this far under cover, as is were.  There were no laws against dweomers. However the laws protecting them were thin, and there were things in their — in our — blood and hair, spit and life force that hunters often went after.

Not just ours.  Jin’s.

Sage and I cleared throats at the same time.  “There’s a police consulting job.  It involves a lot of dangerous work — but I can do it better than anyone. And it pays really well.”  He looked like he expected me to say no.

I wanted to, but there were other things to worry about now. “The city wants someone to translate the other races for them.  There’s a higher percentage of non-humans here than any other human settlement in the world — and I got top marks in non-human relations and studies.  The pay is still in the air, but it would let me stay home with Jin.”

We considered our tiny glowing child.  “Smokey Knoll,” Sage murmured.  The inhumans gathered there, but there were, on occasion, known to be humans living here and there around the edges.  It was a very nice neighborhood, after all, if you didn’t mind harpies overhead, and neither of us would.  “I’ll talk to the department about a hiring bonus.”

“I’ll go dig up a little family treasure.”  Sandwiched between pixies and centaurs, Jin’s glow would be camouflaged.  It wasn’t safety in and of itself, but it was at least a good first step.

“Smokey Knoll,” I told our tiny child.  “You are going to grow up with the most interesting neighbors, my dear.”