Milo Manheim Feather Novels & Stories

“Vampires? And this… this is not from the Feather clan nor the Wingsman clan.” She traced the pad of her fingers on the feathers. The feathers were slightly unique. It was pointy and rough around the edge. It was somewhat larger than either clan. The Feather clan consisted of numerous bird feathers and the Wingsman clan’s feathers were limited only to their wings. There were striking differences between the Feather clan's and the Wingsman clan’s feathers. The differences were also prominent.

he stretched out his hand for a handshake. Milo’s head lifted, his eyes on me, a silent question of trust. I nodded with a smile on my face, I wasn’t going to push him, he had to be the one who would choose if he wanted to be friends with Nevan. A greater part of me begged, prayed that they were friends. He grinned, “I am Milo, heard you like Legos.”

Each impact shattered part of the rock, producing terrifying destruction. Behind him, the other three handled debris removal, keeping the path clear. These three were clearly ability users. Ray spotted one immediately—a bird-man. His entire body was covered in feathers. He realized he'd been wrong earlier: the feathers from Number 114 didn't come from mutated birds—they came from this bird-man. He was male, fully feathered, and there was even a membrane stretching between his ribs. He didn't look much like a bird—more like a bat. If he was truly bat-like, could he emit ultrasonic attacks?

I couldn't see much more than his head, but he noticed me and pulled his headphones off before he stepped out of the booth. I wasn't sure who I was expecting to see, but who I saw stepping out of the booth didn't look like a rapper to me. Damien had dirty blonde hair that was perfectly tousled on top of his head, green eyes, and a strong jawline. His clothes were the second indication that he didn't look like a rapper. His jeans were worn in the thighs and hugged his hips perfectly, he wore converse's on his feet and a white tee with a blue and grey flannel shirt over it. Tattoos lined his arms where he had the flannel rolled up to his elbows. The V-cut in his shirt revealed another tattoo g

He's the perfect blend of us both. "I thought I would die in that room," I whisper to him. "But you kept me going. I had to stay alive for you." I touch his cheek with one finger. "And now we're both safe." Milo stirs, his eyes fluttering open for a moment—deep blue, like all newborns—before closing again. His little hand escapes from the blanket, and I let him grab my finger, amazed at his strength. Armani returns with food, setting the tray beside me. "The nurses said he might be hungry soon. Do you want to try feeding him?"

“Look at this!” The bouquet Milo helped create is stunning. It's not a traditional arrangement at all. It’s filled with feathers and pinecones, trails of hanging ivy, and blue, purple, and white flowers from the meadow filling it in so there are no bare spots. Little twigs with green buds stick out giving it more dimension. A green ribbon that matches the one around my waist ties it all together. Beta Becca comes in and rests her chin on Mom’s shoulder from behind, admiring the bouquet. “He is so creative.”

“Don’t worry, Milo. If anyone’s mean to you, I’ll tell Daddy. He’s super scary when he’s mad.” Milo blinked, then whispered back, “He doesn’t look scary.” Mira gasped in mock outrage. “That’s because he’s smiling now! Wait until someone takes your snack, then you’ll see!”

“Do you know me? Who are you?” Why couldn’t I remember? Damn it. Why had I become so forgetful? I wasn’t like this before. Manolya reached for something. A black feather. It looked like it had come from a crow, dark and glossy, shimmering with iridescent green when the light touched it. Sophia took her hand and pricked her finger. A drop of blood formed. Manolya didn’t even flinch. She didn’t hesitate. She lowered the feather and signed her name at the bottom ‘Manolya Kara’ willingly.

"I promise. I am just going to touch you, okay? And then we are going to breathe together. Nice and slow. And you are going to come back to me." My hand finally touched his fur. It was hot…really hot…but not burning. It felt like touching warm velvet that had been sitting in the sun. Under my palm, I could feel Milo's internal turmoil clearer than ever. "There we go," I said softly. "I have got you. You are safe." The purple in his eyes flickered, going dimmer and brighter like a calm flame in the wind. “Milo” I concentrated harder to reach him amidst the chaotic voice that was causing havoc in his head. “Listen to my voice. Only my voice. That other voice is a liar. It doesn't care about yo

​I looked down. ​Milo, who had been crying for the last hour, was suddenly wide awake. He had wiggled his arms out of his yellow duck fleece. With zero survival instincts and absolute baby fearlessness, Milo reached his tiny, chubby hand across the center console. ​His little fingers clamped firmly into Kaelen Thorne’s thick, dark beard. ​"Da!" Milo squealed happily, giving the facial hair a sharp, aggressive yank.