My Lovely Headmaster

Chapter 66

Three months. That's how long Vlad has been gone, and I still reach for him in the darkness before remembering. The bed feels too large, the sheets too cold, and even Hope's soft glow can't fill the void he left behind.

"Another letter arrived," Julia says from my doorway, holding an envelope with no return address.

I take it with trembling hands. Like the others, it smells faintly of cedar and smoke. Inside, Vlad's handwriting—careful, measured, giving nothing away about his location.

My love, The suppressor facilities in Prague are destroyed. Marcus says we're making progress, but every victory feels hollow without you. How is Hope's floating? Is Devon still having the dreams? Tell them both I love them. Tell them their father thinks of them every moment. Leo sends his regards. He's insufferable, but his sarcasm keeps the darkness at bay. I dream of spring. Of coming home. Of you. Forever yours, V

"Mom?" Devon appears beside Julia, and I see he already knows what the letter says. The network connects him to his father in ways paper never could. "He's in pain. Not physical—emotional. The separation is killing him too."

"I know, sweetheart." I fold the letter carefully, adding it to the collection in my desk drawer. Twenty-three letters now, one for each week he's been gone.

A knock interrupts us. Genesis enters, and I notice the ring immediately—a simple band with a small diamond, nothing like the elaborate engagement rings the Architect wives used to wear.

"You said yes to Richard?"

She nods, tears in her eyes. "Life's too short, too uncertain. After everything we've survived, I want to grab happiness while I can."

I hug her, genuinely happy despite my own ache. "When?"

"Next month. Here at Blackwood, if you'll allow it. Richard thinks the evolved children should see that there's still beauty, still love, even after trauma."

"Of course." A wedding at Blackwood. Something beautiful rising from the ruins.

Adrian Dickenson enters my office—he's been invaluable these past months, using his resources to fund the school's restoration. "We have a problem. Carmichael's followers are regrouping. They're calling themselves the Pure Architecture Movement."

"How many?"

"Enough to be dangerous. They believe the evolved children are abominations, that the original Architect vision has been corrupted."

"Let them come," I say with more confidence than I feel. "We have forty-three Seminary children, fifteen from Margaret's rescue, and more arriving weekly. We're not helpless."

"No, but we're vulnerable. Without Vlad, Leo, and Marcus—"

"We're not without them," Devon interrupts. "They're hunting Carmichael's operations, destroying suppressor technology. Every facility they eliminate saves lives."

"At what cost?" Adrian asks gently. "Your mother needs her partner. You need your father."

"Spring," Devon says with that eerie certainty. "He'll return in spring."

That's still three months away.

That evening, I'm reviewing construction plans when an unexpected visitor arrives. Senator Morse escorts a woman I don't recognize—elegant, perhaps fifty, with silver hair and eyes like winter sky.

"Jasmine Johnson," she says, extending a hand. "I'm Dr. Sarah Blackwood. Adrian mentioned you might need medical expertise."

The Blackwood name makes me tense. "Related to the founding family?"

"Descendant, yes. But not all Blackwoods supported what this place became." She looks around the partially restored hall with something like grief. "My great-great-grandmother Evangeline tried to stop it. Failed, obviously, but she hid resources, knowledge. I've come to share them."

"Why now?"

"Because forty-three evolved children need specialized care, and I'm one of the few doctors who understands their physiology without wanting to exploit it."

I study her carefully. Trust doesn't come easily anymore. But Richard vouches for her, and we desperately need medical expertise.

"One condition," I say. "You work with our children, not on them. They're not subjects or specimens."

"Agreed. I'm here to heal, not study."

Later, I'm tucking Hope into her crib—she still floats in her sleep, but we've installed a special canopy to keep her from drifting—when my phone buzzes. Unknown number.

"Jasmine."

My heart stops. "Vlad?"

"I shouldn't be calling. It's not secure. But I had to hear your voice."

"Where are you?"

"Better you don't know. How are you? Really?"

"Surviving. The school's taking shape. Devon's getting stronger. Hope floats constantly now. And I miss you so much it physically hurts."

"I know. God, I know." His voice cracks. "Every morning I wake up reaching for you."

"Come home."

"I can't. Not yet. Carmichael's building something in Moscow. Something big. If we don't stop it—"

The line goes dead. I call back, but the number's already disconnected.

I sink onto my bed, clutching the phone, when another sound reaches me—children laughing. I go to the window and see them in the courtyard below, the evolved children creating light patterns in the snow. Their joy despite everything they've endured makes my eyes burn with tears.

Jessica finds me there. "The construction crew needs approval for the east wing modifications."

"The ones for the evolved children's dormitories?"

"Special reinforced walls for the ones who phase, grounded flooring for the ones who conduct electricity. Who knew we'd need such specific accommodations?"

"We're building something unprecedented," I say. "A school for the impossible."

"Your father would be proud," Jessica says softly. "James Johnson always believed in protecting children, no matter the cost."

"He paid the ultimate cost."

"And his daughters are honoring that sacrifice."

As if summoned by the mention of her name, Julia appears. "The Pure Architecture Movement is planning something. My contacts say they're targeting the wedding."

"Genesis and Richard's wedding?"

"They see it as symbolic—a modified woman marrying a normal man, celebrating at the school they consider an abomination."

"Double the security," I order. "And tell Marcus when he checks in."

"Already done. He says Vlad's considering coming back for it—secretly. To protect us."

My heart leaps, then sinks. "He can't. If he's caught—"

"He won't be. Leo's creating false trails, making it look like they're in South America."

I want to be selfish, want him here regardless of risk. But I think of the evolved children depending on us, the school we're building, the future we're trying to create.

"Tell him no. We'll handle the Pure Architecture threat ourselves."

Julia nods, understanding the cost of that decision.

That night, Devon crawls into my bed. "Dad's crying," he says simply. "I can feel it through the network."

"So am I," I admit, letting my seven-year-old son see my tears.

"It won't always be like this," he promises, his small hand in mine.

"No?"

"No. Spring brings transformations. Death into life. Darkness into light. Separation into reunion."

"You sound like a fortune cookie," I say, trying to lighten the moment.

He smiles—a real, little-boy smile. "Clara says I'm getting pretentious. She's probably right."

"Definitely right."

We lie there in the darkness, mother and son, waiting for spring. Outside, snow falls on Blackwood Academy, covering the construction sites, the evolved children's footprints, the place where we're building tomorrow from the ashes of yesterday.

Vlad's latest letter sits on my nightstand, and I reach for it in the darkness, needing the connection to him even through paper and distance.

Three more months. We can survive three more months. We have to.