You wouldn’t think that saving one person could put seven others on the line, but hey, welcome to my life.

It seemed like a normal enough day to begin with. Late spring, crisply warm, brilliant sun chasing a few clouds from the sky. I was wandering through one of my favorite haunts, a state park near the city. Insects trilled and birds chattered, but I hadn’t seen or heard another human being in at least an hour. And that was exactly the way I liked it.

I raised my camera to take a shot of the forested landscape. The redwoods were always a big hit on the stock photo sites, especially if I got the lighting perfect. Desert-y panoramas brought in a good amount of cash too. Lucky for me, this place offered both. If I could get some close-ups on the local wildlife, I’d be doing even better.

Treading a little farther into the forest, I came across a sapling hunched over—probably bowed by the big storm we’d had a few days ago and too weak to stretch itself back up. But it’d make an eerie photo for someone’s ad or book cover.

I framed the tree in the lens and frowned. The branches brushed just a little too close to the ground to make for a solid composition.

Well, I could fix that easily enough. That was one more benefit to doing my work out here, completely by myself. I glanced around, confirming that I still had no company except the birds and the bees. Perfect. Anticipation was already rippling through me. I’d learned it was a good idea to find outlets for my talent where I could. Otherwise the power would start itching at me until it bled out into the world when I least wanted it to.

I brought the camera back to my eye and raised my other hand. Energy tickled down my spine and through my muscles. I focused on the tree, the curve of the branches, the angle of the trunk.

With a twist of my fingers, the energy in me pushed out. It pushed the branches up, just a few inches higher off the ground.

Now we were talking. I snapped a few shots before I released my distant hold on the tree. The branches sagged back down. The sight of that crumpled form made my stomach twist, just a little.

If I’d been capable of it, I’d have straightened the tree up permanently. But my ability only let me move things around, not completely change their shape in any functional way. Useful for some situations, not so much for others.

My camera caught a squirrel perched on a stump and a butterfly fluttering over a flowering shrub. Then I broke off a clump of those flowers. With a flick of my hand and a pulse of my talent, I propelled the clump up through the air toward a crook between a tree branch and its trunk. I was just settling the flowers into that spot, picturing the images I’d capture, when voices carried through the forest.

My hand jerked down. The clump of flowers thumped to the ground. The tingling energy that had been streaming through my body fled me. I spun around, my pulse hiccupping.

The people I’d heard weren’t even in sight yet. I could hardly make out any of the words they were saying.

I exhaled slowly, willing myself to relax. If I couldn’t see them, these hikers couldn’t have seen me—couldn’t have witnessed me moving things with my mind. That was exactly why I let myself exercise my ability out here, where I could notice anyone approaching well before they caught up with me.

Still, my hand dropped to the lump in my pocket—the worn shard of glass I always kept on me. My thumb traced its outline through the fabric. I could still see exactly how it had cracked out of the windshield...

My body tensed again. And that was why I kept the shard as a touchstone. So I never completely relaxed and then got careless. It didn’t matter how safe I felt. There was always a chance of discovery… and all the turmoil that would come afterward.

I snapped a few more shots of the landscape, but my enthusiasm had faded. As I wiped the sweat from my brow, I pulled out my phone to check for any messages, even though I hadn’t felt it vibrate.

The screen was totally blank. I let out my breath in relief. Another day with no catastrophes. I couldn’t really ask for more than that.

I tucked my camera into my padded bag and slung the strap over my shoulder. Setting off toward the road, I tapped out a text message to Nick, the oldest of my four younger brothers. It’d be late but not too late where he was. He’d been living in London for the last five years and loving it.

If we could all hold off further disasters, hopefully he’d be able to stay there.

Hey! I wrote. Did everything go smoothly with that last project of yours?

It didn’t take long for Nick to reply. The five of us and our parents kept our family phones on us at all times, no numbers programmed into them except each other’s. If a catastrophe did arrive, we all needed to be ready.

Dropped it off without a hitch, Nick sent back. He added a beaming smiley face that couldn’t come close to replicating his real, warm grin. Even in our family, Nick was something else. The owners were very pleased with the recovery.

Glad to hear it. Keep up the good work over there.

You know I will. How are things in San Jose?

He always asked, and I never knew what to tell him. The truth was, no matter where I happened to be situated, my life was pretty monotonous most of the time. And if it wasn’t, it was because I was racing around trying to haul one of my brothers out of trouble.

I packed light, ready to move when I had to, and kept my head down. The more cautious I was, the less Nick needed to be. He was doing more with his talent than I could have anyway.

Warm, I wrote back. Just out enjoying the spring scenery. I’ll send you a few of my best shots.

I’m going to hold you to that. Your stuff deserves to be in galleries, you know. I’ve got that ocean photo framed over my desk.

I had to smile at that. Nick always saw the best in everything and everyone. Most of my photos couldn’t even qualify as art. They were just a way to pay the bills. And it was kind of satisfying knowing that actual artists might be turning them into master works after plucking them off the stock photography sites.

Maybe one day, I wrote, even though we both knew there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d aim for that kind of public prominence. Just existing was risky enough.

Had any custom clients recently? Nick asked. That last one was a hoot.

Oh, it had been. Here and there, I got orders for exclusive images that required a little more work, but paid ten times as well. The one I’d told Nick about last month had required a series of cakes balancing on fence posts and mailboxes. I’d had an interesting time pulling that one off without getting too many stares.

None since that one. But I’m sure there are more on the way. You get back to your good Samaritaning now.

The road had come into view up through the trees ahead. I shoved my phone in my pocket and steadied my camera bag against my back.

I came out to this park at least once a week, so the trip here and back had become part of my exercise routine. On the firmer ground along the shoulder of the highway, I pushed myself into a steady jog. At my usual pace, I could make it to the suburbs in half an hour. Then I’d either catch a bus or keep running, depending on how much more energy I had to burn.

It was good practice. I’d had to do plenty of running in the past in more urgent situations, and no doubt I’d do plenty more in the future.

By the time I reached the first city blocks, a pleasant burn had settled into my calves and thighs. I pushed myself a little faster, enjoying the exertion. In the middle of the afternoon, the residential streets were pretty quiet, only an occasional car or pedestrian passing by. An elderly woman waved to me from her porch. A nanny chased a couple of preschoolers across a lawn. It made the perfect domestic scene.

I had the urge to take out my camera and capture this too, but I couldn’t sell those photos without image release forms from the people in them. Too much paperwork. It was better to just enjoy the view with my eyes and not risk raising questions.

The first bus stop for the route that could take me home was just past the cemetery. I considered the strain in my muscles as I loped toward it. Another half a mile, or give myself a break today?

I could make it a little farther. It wasn’t as if I had any big plans for the rest of the day to hurry back to.

My gaze caught on a young woman ahead of me who was just stepping out through the cemetery gate onto the sidewalk. Now there was a picture and a half. The sun gleamed off her sleek, fawn-brown hair. Her clothes were modest, a knee-length sundress and short-sleeved cardigan, but they couldn’t completely downplay her curves. There was quite a woman under that outfit.

A twinge of desire shot through my belly. But I knew better than to follow my dick over my head. Relationships didn’t mix with my lifestyle, and I’d learned a while back that one night stands just didn’t do it for me. If I needed that kind of release, I could make a date with my right hand.

The woman turned, revealing a pretty heart-shaped face. She smiled at me. Lord, the sweetness in that smile. I couldn’t help smiling back. A different sort of twinge tugged at my chest.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the hope of feeling some deeper emotion spark with another human being. But that would be even more risky. We all made our sacrifices, right?

That thought was just passing through my head when the screech of tires on asphalt pierced my ears. My gaze twitched away from the woman.

A pick-up truck was hurtling toward the sidewalk, tires skidding. The cat the driver must have been trying to avoid scampered across the road. Behind the windshield, the driver yanked at the wheel, his face red, but there wasn’t time. He was careening straight toward the woman I’d just exchanged smiles with.

My heartbeat stuttered. I leapt forward instinctively. It was all instinct—the cry of warning that broke from my throat, the snap of my arms into the air. The energy that rippled through me.

I grabbed the woman’s wrist with one hand and yanked her past me. With my other hand and all the will I had in me, I slammed a burst of psychic energy at the truck.

The vehicle rocked on its wheels and veered just slightly to the left. The side mirror smacked my elbow. Then the truck slammed bumper first into the cemetery fence.

“Oh my God,” the woman said, staring at the crash. “Oh my God.” She turned her awed gaze on me. Damn, she had beautiful eyes too, big and brown as a doe’s. I could stare into those for ages.

The adrenaline rush faded with an icy jolt. My pulse started to thud twice as hard as the reality of the last few seconds caught up with me.

What the hell had I just gotten myself into? I’d saved this woman’s life—and I’d also used my talent in full view of an entire street.

So much for avoiding catastrophes.