New Novel Reveal and Sample Chapter!

Hello, dear readers! Happy Veterans Day! It’s been a wild two months since I debuted my first book, Okey-Dokey Sensei, and I have been both surprised and elated with the feedback I have gotten from readers around the world. One of the biggest questions I get is, “Are you writing another one?” to which the answer is, “YES!” I started writing my second novel around the time I had wrapped up the third draft of Okey-Dokey Sensei in March of 2020. For those of you looking in from the outside, there is a large amount of downtime between finishing a draft of a novel and sending it out for editing. Editors need time to do their jobs well, and during that time a writer gets the freedom to start new projects and really feel out their next steps.

My new novel has the working (not final) title of Clocktower. The idea from the novel came in part after reading a news article about the creation and recognition of Israel as a country. I wanted to take the idea of creating a state for a specific people, and apply it to a much smaller, less geopolitically significant scale. Enter the fictional town of Sonnerie. Gifted to Japanese Americans who had been interred during the Second World War, Sonnerie is a small, secluded coastal city in southern California. Left to its own devices after its creation, Sonnerie developed culturally and governmentally separately from both the United States and Japan. The story follows Johnny Tokisaki in the early 1990’s, a private investigator from Los Angeles who is invited to Sonnerie to investigate the deaths of two high school seniors, Mari Mishima and Ayano Hanekawa, two girls who apparently stabbed each other to death for reasons unknown.

The themes of Clocktower are explored via two different mediums, watchmaking and shogi, or Japanese Chess. Both of which are hobbies of mine that I wanted to include in the world and characters of Sonnerie. What will Investigator Tokisaki find here? And what will he learn about himself in the process?

As a disclaimer, the following chapter is still in its first draft. As such, some or all parts of it are subject to change or removal. Not all characters or references may make it to the final product. It needn’t be said, but this is unedited and unfit for publishing, so don’t get too attached to every word :). At the time of this blog post, the book has been written up to about the middle of chapter 13, and I am shooting for a release date of Q4 2021.

Without further ado, please enjoy this teaser chapter of Clocktower, by C. A. Valentine.

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Sixth Movement 

Haunted 

 

He took a left at the gate and made his way back to the main avenue that ran east to west through The Bezel.  It was sunny, but still cold.  After just a block of walking he found himself blowing warm air onto his fingers to keep them from going numb.   

 Despite being an American city, everything in Sonnerie was surprisingly cramped.  Buildings were pressed against each other like loaves of bread in the supermarket.  There were no particularly tall buildings, either.  A selection of shops and restaurants, and the occasional café.  People greeted him with a smile and a bow when they saw the insignia on his collar.  Johnny tried his best to be polite, but after the fourth attempt at small talk was made by a passing housewife and her children, he flipped his collar up to hide the pin and kept walking.   

 The whole atmosphere and architecture of The Bezel reminded him of his youth in Kyoto.  There was hardly any difference—even the street signs were written in Japanese here.  If it weren’t for the cars driving on the right side instead of the left, he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.   

 After a good twenty minutes of walking, he dipped into one of the smaller cafés to buy a drink and ask for directions.  The young man behind the counter was initially confused.  Johnny could tell that no one in Sonnerie ever had a need to ask anyone else for directions before.  The town wasn’t large enough to get lost in.  After a few awkward pauses, he flipped his collar back down, revealing his pin and instantly making his position clear.  The young man apologized profusely then set him on the right path towards Ms. Goto’s house. 

 The shops along the road eventually gave way to small apartment complexes mixed in with mid-size houses.  He crossed the street and then made a right at the third intersection from the café, then turned left onto the street with her home.  The design of the homes here was western, but just like with the shops along the main road, there was almost zero space between each property.  None of them had front lawns, but instead featured small gardens on either side of their entry ways.   

 The Goto house was much the same.  An inscription on her mailbox with her last name told him he had arrived.  A white Honda was parked in the driveway, and one of the front windows was fully open.  Johnny pushed open a small white gate and walked up a narrow flight of stairs to the front door, then gave it a knock.   

 “Who is it?” a voice from inside answered.   

 “My name is Mr. Tokisaki.  I’m here to see Ms. Goto.”   

 For several seconds, there was no response.  He reached his hand up to knock another time, but when he did, it opened just a hair.   

 “Are you from the hospital, Mr. Tokisaki?” the woman behind the door asked.   

 “No, I’m afraid not.  I’m here on business,” Johnny answered. 

 The door opened a little wider, revealing a tall woman in her mid 30’s.  She looked him up and down suspiciously.  “My sister isn’t taking any visitors right now.  Please leave.”   

 “I’m sorry,” Johnny said.  “But I really must speak with her.”  He lowered his collar again, revealing his pin.  “It’s urgent.”   

 The woman opened the door further and bowed her head deeply.  “Forgive me,” she instantly recoiled, as if expecting some kind of assault.  Johnny hesitated.  Her hair was shoulder length and jet black, and her bangs were held to the side with a pink pin with a butterfly motif.  She had on a matching pink turtleneck and dark blue jeans that hugged her generous figure.  “I did not mean to offend an esteemed guest of the Twelve,” she paused for a moment then looked up at him.  “You’re not...you’re not here to take Mei away, are you?”   

 “Take her away where?  I’m just here to ask her a few questions.”   

 The woman put her hand on her chest and let out a great sigh of relief.  “Of course,” she said.  “I’m sorry, please forget I asked.  Please, come in.”   

 She led him down a short hallway into a living room, and bid him to take a seat on the sofa in front of the television.  “My name is Nana.”  She walked back to the kitchen and retrieved a glass of water.  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked.   

 “Nothing for me, thank you,” Johnny answered.  He looked around the living room.  The walls were covered in striped white and gold wallpaper, and on the shelf above the television was a picture of the two sisters together in front of the clocktower.   

 “Is it just you two living here?” he asked. 

 “Yes.”  Nana took a seat in a chair to his side.  “Our parents passed away when Mei was in junior high school and I had just turned eighteen.  Car accident.”   

 “I’m sorry to hear that.”  Johnny turned to face her.  “Where is your sister now?” 

 “She’s upstairs.  In her room.  Hasn’t left it since she came home on Friday.  Won’t speak a word to me.  The doctor came over Saturday morning and said she had suffered from a mild seizure.”   

 “I see.”  Johnny tapped his fingers on the armrest.  “You haven’t been able to communicate with her at all?” he asked.   

 “I bring her meals, but she barely eats.  She just keeps looking out the window, like she’s waiting for something.” 

 “Waiting for what?”   

 “I don’t know.”  Nana Goto shrugged.  “She speaks only to herself.  But it’s all gibberish.  I can’t make heads or tails of any of it.  The doctor said it’d only last a week or so and to pay it no mind, but...”   

 “Ms. Goto,” Johnny started. 

 “Nana.”  She forced a smile through her worried expression.   

 “Nana.”  Johnny nodded.  “May I go upstairs and see her, please?  I need to ask her some questions.”   

 “I’d like to be there with you, if you don’t mind,” Nana said.   

 Johnny stopped tapping his fingers and clasped his hands together.  “I’m sorry, I’m afraid that won’t be possible.  I know this is very upsetting.  I’m only someone who you’ve met not five minutes ago, and I’m asking a lot to enter your home and question your sister unsupervised.”   

 “No.  No.”  Nana spoke up.  “It’s not my place to question a guest of the Indices.  You’re only here to help.  Yes,” she nodded.   

 Johnny stood up and thanked her.  With nothing else to be said, she led him upstairs and to the door of Mei Goto’s room.   

 “Please wait for me downstairs,” he said.  “I shouldn’t be too long.”   

 “Very well,” she said.  “Please take care of her.”   

 He waited until the sound of her footsteps descended downstairs and disappeared into the living room below.  When he was satisfied, he lightly rapped on the door, then gave it a gentle push.  Mei was exactly where Nana had said.  In her seat in front of an open window.  She had on a large sweater and was wrapped in a red and white blanket.   

 “Ms. Goto?” he approached her.  “My name is Johnny Tokisaki.  I’m here to talk to you about what you witnessed last Friday.”   

 No response.  Johnny cleared his throat and took a seat on an ottoman on Mei’s right side.  “I’m from Los Angeles,” he continued.  “I’m hoping to help find some answers for everyone.”   

 He leaned over and moved his hand back and forth in front of her eyes, but there was no reaction.  She was fixated on something outside, but what it was, he could not tell. 

 “Ms. Goto,” he started again.   

 “They come out and play in the evening,” she said. 

 “Who?” Johnny asked. 

 “One girl stays, and the other goes far away.” 

 Johnny pulled out his notebook and flipped it to an unmarked page.   

 “Which one stays and which one goes away?” he asked.   

 “The village with the catfish-men.  They jump into the sea with a full moon.”   

 “Are the girls in that village?” he asked in vain hope that his words would reach her ears.   

 “Twelve cups fight in a room where time goes backwards,” she said.  They desire wine, but the servant keeps bringing them water.” 

 Johnny scribbled as quickly as he could.  There would be time for questions later.   

 “One cup fell off the table and rolled away.  Another one cracked in the wash and the others never saw it again.  A shame.  A shame.”   

 A frigid breeze blew through the window, and her body began to shiver and shake.  “The angry man has two rings.  One has two gems and the other has three.”   

 Johnny put his notebook down and reached over to the window to shut it, but she grabbed his arm and shook her head. 

 “Mei?” he asked.  “Do you see me?  Do you understand me?”      

 “One girl stays, and the other goes far away,” she said again.  This time, she started to lean forward.  “They gave one an escapement, and let the other escape.”   

 Johnny looked out the window again, but still he saw nothing.  Not a single car, bike, person, or cat moved anywhere that was visible.   

 “Mei.”  He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed tight.  “Do you know what happened to Mari and Ayano?”   

 There was the slightest movement in the eyes.  A twitch.  A sound coming from somewhere distant had awoken something deep inside.   

 “Mari,” she said.  “Mari.”  Tears began to flow down her cheeks, and before long she was sobbing.   

 “The angry man,” her voice was a panicked whisper now.  “He watches the cups in the room where time goes backwards.  He watches.  He waits.  He...”  She stood up suddenly and pointed out the window.   

 Johnny looked out again, but this time, there was something out there that wasn’t before.  The figure of a girl standing at the edge of an alley across the street.  Too distant to see the features of her face.  She looked up at them for a moment before turning around and heading down the alley. 

 Johnny grabbed his notebook and pen and shoved them into his pocket as fast as he could, then threw the door open and ran down the stairs.   

 “Mr. Tokisaki!?”  Nana called from the living room, but he was already gone.  He flew through the front door and sprinted across the street down the alley where the girl had been, arriving just in time to see her disappear at the other end.  

 “Wait!” he shouted.   His legs carried him as fast as they could, and when he emerged at the street on the other end of the alley, he got another glimpse of the girl—this time no more than fifty yards to the west.  She turned to look at him, then took a right and disappeared from sight once again.   “Come on!” he cursed under his breath and kept running, but when he got to the corner, she was already another fifty yards ahead, making another turn.   

 What started out as a chase soon turned into a short marathon.  The girl led him in a zig-zag pattern between streets and side streets until finally he could hear the sound of traffic from the main road not far away.  With each turn, the distance between them shortened until he could make out the plaid pattern of her skirt and the black and gold trim of her jacket.   

 At last, he made a turn that led back to the main road and came to a sudden halt.  There she was, standing at the end of a narrow alley in front of a set of garbage cans.  This time, she pointed down at one of the cans and looked over at him.   

 He only saw her face for the briefest of instants.  Terrified and beautiful.  Before he could go to her, someone from behind who had seen him running shouted and stole his attention.  When he looked back, she was gone again, but the image of her face was burned into his mind.   

 He reached into his pocket and opened his wallet again, taking out a picture kept inside.  There was no mistake.  The girl who had led him here was Mari Mishima.  


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Japan as a Professional III