“These can’t be Bleeder’s men,” Milan said. “How would she have recruited such an army? In the past she’s always worked on her own.”

Wax looked at her sharply. How much did she know about all this?

“We’re going to have to fight,” Milan said as shouts sounded from behind them. She reached to her chest, where her gown exposed considerable cleavage.

Waxillium had seen some odd things in his life. He’d visited koloss camps in the Roughs, even been invited to join their numbers. He’d met and spoken with God himself and had received a personal gift from Death. That did not prepare him for the sight of a pretty young woman’s chest turning nearly transparent, one of the breasts splitting and offering up the hilt of a small handgun.

She grabbed it and pulled it out. “So convenient,” she noted. “You can store all sorts of things in those.”

“Who are you?”

“MeLaan,” she said, rising and holding her gun in two hands. The pronunciation was slightly different this time when she said her name. “The Father promised you help. I’m it.”

A Faceless Immortal. As soon as she stopped speaking, he heard a rustling in his mind. You can trust this one. Harmony’s voice, accompanied by a sense of endlessness, a vision like he’d seen before. It was as good a confirmation as he could get that this wasn’t Bleeder.

Wax narrowed his eyes at the woman anyway. “Wait. I think I know you.”

She grinned. “We’ve met once before tonight. I’m charmed you remember. You want the ones in the back or the front?”

At least a dozen chasing them. Four ahead. He had to trust someone, sometime. “I’ll take the ones behind.”

“Such a gentleman,” she said. “By the way, technically I’m not supposed to kill people. I… uh… think I already broke that rule tonight. If we happen to survive, please don’t tell TenSoon that I murdered a bunch of people again. It upsets him.”

“Sure. I can do that.”

She grinned—whoever she was, this side of her was completely different from what she’d displayed previously. “Say when to go.”

Wax peeked around the corner. Dark figures moved in the mist behind them, coming up on their position. If she was right, and this wasn’t Bleeder, then who…

Aluminum bullets. Snipers to watch for his escape.

It was his uncle. Somehow Wax had been played. Oh, Harmony… If Bleeder and the Set were working together…

He tossed a bullet casing to the side, against the wall to his right, and held it in place with a light Allomantic push. He flexed his wounded arm, then raised both guns. “Go.”