“Uh, ma’am?”

“Not now.” Prentiss Construction Corporation LLC chairman Holly Scruthers massaged her temples, yawning to pop her ears as her corporate jet took flight. The inspection tour of the new PCC development had been very tiresome, not least of which was dealing with the lecherous and frankly insane architect and planner Nikolai Dyavolov. The board had insisted on hiring him, and his constant revisions to the plans of both buildings and streets had been a source of constant irritation.

“Ma’am?” the pilot said again.

“What part of ‘not now’ don’t you understand?” Holly snapped. Usually she tried to be understanding or at least pleasant to her employees, but two weeks of Dyavolov ranting in Russian while trying to peer down her dress had soured her mood like overripe milk. But everything would get better now that the first houses were being occupied and electrified, even if Dyavolov had insisted on irrationally picking them rather than deferring to tenants.

“It can wait.” The pilot closed the cabin door and banked the plane to the left.

“How long before they notice?” said the co-pilot.

Looking out his window, the pilot shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Below, the lit portions of the PCC housing development formed a giant pentagram with the message AVE SATANI surrounding it.

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