Free Rose and Helena Save Christmas: a novella by Jana DeLeon, Denise Grover Swank

She could only see Helena from the waist up because the stands in the French Market blocked her lower body, but instead of bobbing up and down, the way she should be if she were running, her entire body seemed to be gliding. Seconds later, they reached a spot where the tables were pushed apart, creating a walkway to the other side, and that’s when it all made sense. At least, as much sense as anything involving Helena did. She was wearing roller skates.  
    No way was this going to end well.
    “Taylor! Look at me!” Helena yelled and turned into the French Market cruising straight through people and tables as if they weren’t even there. Or more accurately, as if Helena wasn’t even there.  
    Taylor tore her gaze from the potential train wreck and saw that she was only twenty yards from Hooded Guy, who had slowed to a fast walk. She put on the brakes, before he was clued in that she was chasing him, and began weaving through the French Market crowd. She looked back and saw that Helena had made it to the middle of the market and was cruising down the center aisle.
    At the end of the market, Taylor came to a halt and watched as Hooded Guy crossed Decatur and headed down Saint Philip. He stopped in front of a house midway down the street and pulled out a cell phone. Taylor scanned the street for options to approach, but the street contained few people and no obstacles to hide behind other than a couple of scattered cars.  
    It figured. The one time she would have welcomed a construction crew, there wasn’t a single one in sight.
    “Taylor!” Helena yelled again, but this time the excitement was gone from her voice and had been replaced with fear.
    She turned around, anticipating the worst, and that’s exactly what she got. Helena was barreling out of control, her legs shooting one direction, then another, and her arms flapping as if she were trying to take flight. And then the one thing Taylor had dreaded the most happened.  
    Helena went solid.
    She crashed into a fresh shrimp vendors’ table and sent buckets of shrimp and ice crashing onto the concrete. The owner flipped backward out of his metal folding chair, his expression one of complete terror and confusion, with good reason since from his vantage point, he’d just been attacked by air. Helena hit the water and her legs were done. They split in different directions and Helena went down smack the middle of the shrimpy mess.  
    The slick shrimp juice sent her sliding right into the Mardi Gras mask vendors’ table, and a flurry of sequins and feathers shot up into the air. The shrimp vendor tried to move, but the mass of Mardi Gras finery fell all around him, feathers and sequins sticking to every wet spot on his body.  
    Taylor tore her gaze away from Helena’s latest debacle just in time to see hooded guy enter the house he’d been standing in front of. She didn’t even hesitate before hurrying across the street. She felt a tiny bit guilty leaving Helena, but what possible help could she be to an invisible person in a very public place?
    The buildings had no gaps in between them, so no chance of sneaking down a side and listening in at a window. Taylor inched toward the door she’d seen Hooded Guy enter and took a picture of the building with the address. She was about to cross the street and see if she could find some vantage point to watch as the guy left and get a picture, when she heard the faint sound of arguing coming from the second floor.  
    She stepped onto the street just enough to look over the balcony and saw that one of the second-floor windows was partially open. She crept back under the balcony and strained to make out what they were saying.
    “Not there…don’t know…one bag left…have to find…no other option.”
    She heard a door slam and she rushed across the street to where a car was parked. She pulled out her phone and put it on camera, then pulled out her car keys, hanging them on her finger. Hopefully, Hooded Guy would