Quotation and Rhyme
When Kaylee Roemer was accepted at Whitewood College, she made a solemn vow to herself that she would spend her four years there studying. She would put her nose to the grindstone and earn her degree with honors and not fritter her time away with unprofitable pursuits. Since dating would only distract her and might even prevent her from achieving her academic goals, she would resist all temptation and forgo a social life.
Of course, things don't always go as planned. Two weeks after moving into her dorm, the freshman was sitting alone at a table in the cafeteria, reading over her biology notes, when the most incredibly handsome young man took a seat at the next table.
"I see you there, girl with red hair," he said. "Pretending not to see, feigning not to hear me. But give me time, for no one can resist my rhyme."
Normally, Kaylee had little difficulty brushing off unwanted attention from men, but this young man's poor attempts at poetry made her laugh.
"You can't be serious," she said. "What are you, a rapper in training?"
"No, dear one, I must say nay," he replied. "'Tis my goal in life to always rhyme the words I say."
"Okay, then. I'll leave you to it."
So saying, she returned her full attention to her tuna sandwich and her open laptop. However, the poor man's Byron was persistent.
"I beg thee, sweet flame-haired dame, take your eyes off that screen and tell me your name."
Before Kaylee had the opportunity to answer, a second young man, equally handsome, joined the first.
"'What's in a name?'" the newcomer asked. "'That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.' William Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet, Act 2 Scene 2."
"What are you two, a comedy act?"
"We are but two members of a select few," the first young man answered, "Let me introduce us to you. My name is Xavier Caine, and I speak in rhyme. It may annoy you now, but it will endear me to you in time. This man, called Devon Usher, who is like my brother, has no words of his own. So, he always speaks those of another."
"Oh, now I get it," Kaylee laughed. "You're both pledging a fraternity."
"'A mysterious fraternity born out of smoke and danger of death.' Stephen Crane. The Red Badge of Courage," Devon recited.
"Thank you for that American Lit lesson," she said, closing her laptop. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get to class."
"Adieu, my sweet lady, whose name I still don't know," Xavier replied. "I fear thou does not have one. Please tell me that's not so."
"My name is Kaylee Roemer."
"'Parting is such sweet sorrow.' Shakespeare ...."
"Romeo and Juliet. Yes, I know. I've read it."
As she walked out the cafeteria and headed toward Hawthorne Hall, her mind strayed from the topic of her upcoming lecture to the two strange young men she had just met. Although they were both incredibly good looking, they were opposites in appearance. Where Xavier was fair-haired, blue-eyed and exuded the All-American-boy charm, Devon was dark in hair and eyes, and an air of mystery seemed to surround him.
I don't know why I'm still thinking about them, she mused as she took her seat in the lecture hall. It's not as though I've never seen a cute boy before.
It was not their looks that fascinated her, though. Rather, it was their peculiar way of behaving. Once they were accepted or rejected by the fraternity, they would no doubt return to normal and become like the hundreds of other boys on campus.
What a shame! I like them the way they are. They're unique, each in his own way.
It was not until the professor stepped up to the lectern, a signal that class was to begin, that she finally managed to put Xavier and Devon out of her mind and concentrate on physics.
* * *
That evening Kaylee was in her dorm room studying, as usual, when Mary Elizabeth Wheelwright made an unexpected appearance. Unlike her serious-minded roommate, the former high school cheerleader and prom queen rarely picked up a book and seldom put any effort into learning. Born into one of Boston's oldest and wealthiest Back Bay families, she was attending college for only one reason: to have fun and meet members of the opposite sex. So far, she managed quite well to do both.
What good is an education to her? Kaylee wondered. Even if she flunks out in her first year, she'll marry either a doctor or a lawyer and have a nanny to help her raise her overprivileged children.
"It's a surprise seeing you here tonight," she said, when Mary Elizabeth took off her designer jeans and cashmere sweater and put a robe on over her underwear.
"Richie has football practice tonight. There's a big game this weekend."
"Who's Richie? I thought you were dating a boy named Trip?"
"Trip was last week. I dumped him for Richie."
"I'll need a scorecard to keep up with all your boyfriends."
"Never mind my love life. What about yours?"
"I haven't got one, nor do I want one. I'm here to get an education."
"You know what they say about all work and no play. Oh, God! I'm beginning to sound like Devon Usher."
Kaylee was surprised by her roommate's mention of one of the young men she met in the cafeteria earlier that day.
"You know Devon Usher?"
"Who doesn't know him? He's practically a legend in this school. But I'm surprised you took your nose out of a book long enough to know of him."
"I met him and his friend Xavier Caine during lunch today."
"They were in the cafeteria? You're kidding me!"
"What's so strange about that?" Kaylee asked, assuming all students occasionally ate there.
"They rarely leave Hill House."
"Is that their frat house?"
"You really do need to get out more!" Mary Elizabeth exclaimed. "Hill House is the nickname for that monstrosity of a building that houses the not-so-secret society here at Whitewood. You've heard of the Skull and Bones Society at Yale? Well, here at Whitewood we have the Dorian Gray Brotherhood. All its members are ... odd. That said, Devon Usher and Xavier Caine—often referred to as Quotation and Rhyme—are by far the strangest of the lot."
"I assumed they were pledging a fraternity."
"Hell, no! Those two are what my father calls 'professional students.' They've been here for years. Don't ask me what they're studying, though. They've been here long enough to get doctorates by now."
Mary Elizabeth then reached for the TV remote and turned on The Bachelor. Not one for reality shows, her roommate put in her earphones and listened to "elevator" music that would not distract her from her reading. However, the instrumental version of Dolly Parton's "Jolene" did not drown out the former cheerleader's final words.
"Lucky girl. I wouldn't mind having lunch with either Devon or Xavier, and you got to be with both of them!"
* * *
It was three days later, as she was searching the poetry section of the library, that Kaylee encountered one of the Dorian Gray Brotherhood again. She had just removed a book from the shelf when she heard Devon whisper to her.
"'Let it come, let it come, the time that we will love. So patient have I been that I've forgotten everything: fear and suffering have departed for the heavens, and an unholy thirst darkens my veins.' Arthur Rimbaud. A Season in Hell."
"Very good," she said and took down a book on the English Romantic poets. "What about this one?"
"'The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea; what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?' Percy Bysshe Shelley."
"And this?" she asked, grabbing another volume.
"'What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.' Walt Whitman."
"You're really good. I have to give you credit for that. But shouldn't one of the Dorian Gray Brotherhood go around quoting Oscar Wilde?"
"'I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying.' O.W."
Kaylee knew enough about the flamboyant Irish playwright to quote him herself.
"I believe it was dear Oscar who said, 'Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.'"
Devon was amused by her comeback. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile, and the effect this simple gesture had on her was remarkable. To use a trite cliché, she momentarily felt as though the earth moved beneath her feet. The spell the dark-haired young man cast was only lifted when Xavier appeared several moments later.
"We meet again, my lovely beauty. Choosing a book? A noble duty."
Apparently unwilling to share her attention with his rhyming society brother, Devon chose to depart instead. It was a complete surprise—and by no means an unpleasant one—when, before leaving, he took her hand and kissed it.
"'There are no goodbyes for us. Wherever you are, you will always be in my heart.' Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi."
As Kaylee watched Mr. Tall-dark-and-handsome walk away, she said, "He must have memorized the entire book of Bartlett's quotes."
"The words he speaks are mighty fine," Xavier said. "But these are better because they're mine. I get them not from literary art. My words, instead, come straight from my heart."
"That may very well be true, but you really must work on your rhythm and meter."
"Perhaps you can help me, my learned sage. You can be my tutor, and I'll pay you a wage."
"If you're serious, I could definitely use the money. Unlike most of the people here, I'm a scholarship student. I haven't got a cent to my name."
"Then we have a deal. You name the date. But make it soon, for I can hardly wait."
This ought to be fun, she thought, looking into his captivating blue eyes.
Then, for the second time that day, the ground beneath her feet shifted as Xavier leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.
What's gotten into me? she wondered. I'm here to learn, not to be swept off my feet. And now I find myself enamored with not one but two young men!
* * *
For the remainder of the fall semester, Kaylee repeatedly refused to date either of the two men from the Dorian Gray Brotherhood. She did, however, take Xavier up on his offer to tutor him in poetry. Her lessons consisted mainly of reading and practicing iambic pentameter and other forms of syllabic verse.
"It's not enough to rhyme your words," she stressed. "You have to maintain a rhythm in your poetry, much like you would in a song."
"I would put my words to music, dear, if you would but take the time to hear."
Periodically, Kaylee would run into Devon. Each time they met, he amazed her with quotes from such diverse people as Friedrich Nietzsche, Marcel Proust, Karl Marx, Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson and even Dr. Seuss and Stephen King.
"You must be the most well-read person I've ever met."
Rather than thank her for the compliment, he replied, "'Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.' Charles William Eliot."
"Is that how you really feel? I've known you for more than three months, and I don't know much about you. Do you ever engage in normal conversation?"
"'In quoting others, we cite ourselves.' Julio Cortazar."
"Is that what you're doing? But isn't it easier just to come out and say what you mean in your own words?"
"'I love quotations because it is a joy to find thoughts one might have, beautifully expressed with much authority by someone recognized wiser than oneself.' Marlene Dietrich."
"Why do I bother?" she asked in frustration. "Neither you nor Xavier is willing to drop the affectation. What about the rest of your society members? What do they do? I hear there's one young man who speaks nothing but Pig Latin. I bet he drives everyone else crazy."
"'A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?' Albert Einstein."
"Well, Einstein, I've got a quote for you, Xavier and your Pig-Latin friend: 'Don't gobblefunk around with words.' Roald Dahl."
His unexpected laughter calmed her anger.
"Is that you laughing?" she teased. "Or are you quoting someone else's amusement?"
"'Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine.' Lord Byron."
"It's good to see you've got a sense of humor anyway. I like that in people."
No quote followed. Rather than speak, Devon took her in his arms and kissed her on the lips.
"What was that all about?" she asked, taken aback by his display of affection.
"'It is an extra dividend when you like the girl you've fall in love with.' Clark Gable."
As he walked away, leaving her flushed and reeling from that one kiss, she wondered if Gable's words conveyed his true feelings.
Does he care for me or is this all a game to him?
* * *
Kaylee had her last class of the semester on December 3. Having packed her suitcase the previous day, she was ready to leave for home when it ended. Yet despite having a three-hour drive ahead of her, she lingered around campus, hoping to see either Devon or Xavier before she left. Sadly, there was no sign of them.
Maybe they went home already, she thought, disappointed.
Finally, around two, hoping to get home before it got dark, she climbed into her Subaru and drove off. A collection of traditional carols and modern seasonal songs played on the radio, but they failed to get her in the mood for the holidays. Her mind was not on decorating the tree, going Christmas shopping or watching those time-honored holiday movies she loved so much. While Brenda Lee's "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" played, she thought about Devon's mesmerizing dark eyes, and when Bobby Helms sang "Jingle Bell Rock," her mind was on the dimples that appeared on Xavier's face when he smiled.
"I really need to stop this!" she told herself as Nat King Cole sang about chestnuts roasting over an open fire.
She tried to concentrate on happy memories of previous holidays, but thoughts of the two young men from the Dorian Gray Brotherhood kept intruding upon her recollections of Christmases past.
What is the Dorian Gray Brotherhood, anyway?
Although nearly every student at Whitewood had heard of the secret society, people rarely spoke of it. Unlike the national fraternities, there were no recruitment campaigns and no booze-filled parties. All that was really known about any of the members was that they all exhibited unusual quirks in speech. In addition to Devon, Xavier and the young man who spoke only in Pig Latin, there was a member who did not speak at all, choosing to behave like a mime minus the face paint. There was another who sang rather than said his words. The oddest of all the brothers spoke his sentences backward.
Even more bizarre was the house they inhabited. Built in the mid-1800s, Hill House, which got its moniker from Shirley Jackson gothic horror novel, was the result of a nineteenth-century robber baron's seeking to have a European-style castle in the New World. The huge stone edifice, complete with turrets and large wooden gate-like entranceway, resembled the setting of an old Universal monster movie. One expected to see Boris Karloff or Bela Lugosi, in full makeup and costume, peering from one of its windows.
That place is more suited to be a museum or a haunted house attraction than to a home for a bunch of oddball college kids.
Another thing Kaylee found peculiar about the young men from Hill House—there were no female Dorian Grays—was that she never saw them in or near any of the lecture halls. The places she met them were the cafeteria (where they never ate), the library (where they were never seen studying or checking out a book) and the college's general merchandise store (where they never purchased anything).
Don't they ever go to classes? No wonder they've been here longer than four years. I'm surprised they weren't kicked out of school for lack of attendance.
But she was not naïve. As long as the wealthy Ushers and Caines paid their tuition and donated money to the college, their sons would always be welcome at Whitewood.
After a long and monotonous drive on the interstate, Kaylee took the exit onto the state highway that represented the last leg of her journey. The sun had just set when she pulled into her parents' driveway.
"Home, sweet home," she said and quickly stifled her wish that the holidays would soon be over so that she could return to school.
* * *
Once home, in the midst of her loving family, Kaylee felt the spell Devon and Xavier had cast over her begin to lift. Rather than think about them fifty-five minutes out of every hour, the rate dropped to only ten out of sixty.
With only seven days before Christmas, the college student and her mother commandeered the kitchen to take on the monumental task of holiday baking.
"Which should we make first?" Mrs. Roemer asked. "Cookies, pies or cakes?"
"Let's get the cookies out of the way," her daughter suggested.
"Here's my list for this year: snickerdoodles, lemon meltaways, peanut butter brownies, cream cheese spritz, gingerbread men, mincemeat tartlets ...."
"Isn't that more than you made previous years?"
"Yes, but I thought you could take some cookies back to school with you when you leave."
The image of Devon Usher munching on a spritz made her smile. It was soon supplanted by one of Xavier Caine licking peanut butter icing from the brownies off his fingertips.
As Kaylee was rolling out dough for the gingerbread cookies, her brother, a sophomore in high school, came home and followed the scent of cinnamon into the kitchen.
"Did you get the mail on your way in?" his mother inquired.
"Yeah," he replied, helping himself to a still-warm snickerdoodle. "There's a package for Dad and what looks like several Christmas cards, two of which are addressed to Kaylee."
His sister, assuming they were sent from her grandparents, was surprised when he added that they both bore a Whitewood postmark. Quickly wiping the flour from her hands with a damp rag, she tore through the red envelopes to see the cards inside. Although neither one was signed, it was obvious who had sent them. The handwritten message in the first card read, "'And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless us, every one!' Charles Dickens. A Christmas Carol." The second was more original but not nearly as eloquent: "Roses are red; violets are blue. I'll have a terrible Christmas without you!"
They didn't forget about me! Kaylee thought, fighting back tears of joy. I should have sent cards to them, too.
But where would she send them? She had no idea where either of them lived.
I really don't know anything about them!
That wasn't exactly true. One thing she did know: she was in love with them—BOTH of them! In fact, if she were forced to choose one over the other, she would be hard-pressed to do so. Maybe that was why she had yet to agree to a date with either one of them.
As she put the cards in her handbag for safekeeping, an inner voice warned: "If you don't pick one, you'll lose them both." That made sense. They were both personable and incredibly gorgeous. Frankly, she was surprised some pretty coed had not snapped them up already.
In spite of the warm temperature of the kitchen—a benefit of the oven having been on since morning—a sudden chill brought goosebumps to her flesh. Because of the interest both had shown in her since early September, she assumed neither had a girlfriend. But was this the case?
"I'll be right back, Mom," she announced, putting the last gingerbread man on the cookie sheet. "I have to go up to my room and check on something on the computer."
Once in the privacy of her bedroom, she booted up her laptop. Although she had never been a social media addict, she did have a Facebook account, which she sometimes used to stay in touch with former high school classmates. When she typed in Devon Usher's name, the results included five people, none of whom was a student at Whitewood College.
It's odd that he's not on Facebook.
Odder still, neither was Xavier Caine. She then searched Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat and Reddit. The two young men were not to be found on any of the sites.
I don't know a single person under the age of twenty-five that isn't on at least one social media site.
She then googled both their names. None of the results pertained to her friends.
Later, as Kaylee prepared the peanut butter frosting for the fudgy chocolate brownies, she replayed her various meetings with Devon and Xavier in her mind. She could not remember ever seeing either of them with an iPhone (or any other brand of smartphone). This was the twenty-first century; cell phones were ubiquitous. Even most senior citizens carried them. And as for Millennials and Centennials, they kept their phones on them wherever they went.
"Curiouser and curiouser!"
No doubt Devon would be impressed that she quoted Lewis Carroll in her thoughts.
* * *
As Kaylee drove back to Whitewood on a blustery January day, she did not even try to control her thinking. Ever since receiving their Christmas cards, images of Devon and Xavier were not only prevalent during the waking hours, but they also haunted her in her sleep. It was not necessarily their good looks that bewitched her—although she did admit theirs were the handsomest faces this side of Hollywood. From the moment she met them, she was amazed by their eccentric speech habits. Then, there was the added element of mystery, which was always tantalizing. Everything from the secret society in which they belonged to the fact that they were never seen to attend classes added to the mystique.
Mary Elizabeth had once told her of the rumors around campus concerning them (some crossing the boundary to ludicrous conspiracy theories). Some students claimed they were undercover narcotics officers, à la 21 Jump Street. Others theorized Hill House was a sanctuary for young men who were in the federal Witness Protection Program. There was even an outlandish tale claiming they were aliens who moved to Massachusetts from Roswell, New Mexico. Most people, Mary Elizabeth included, just saw them as entitled weirdos.
"Still," her roommate admitted, "I wouldn't mind going out with either one of them. Weird or not, they're hot!"
When Kaylee pulled off the interstate, a sense of coming home descended upon her. While the majority of the students wished the break between semesters could have been longer, she was actually glad it was over. Not only did she miss the Dorian Gray brothers, but as one who enjoyed learning, she liked being in an academic environment.
Maybe the same is true of Devon and Xavier, she mused as she took her suitcase out of the back of her Subaru. Maybe they're not regular students like the rest of us. They could be doing postgraduate work or research of some kind. God knows they're smart enough! Devon is like a walking encyclopedia, quoting everyone from Greek philosophers to rappers and pop singers. And Xavier, even if his poetry is a far cry from Robert Frost and Dylan Thomas, seems to be of above-average intelligence.
As she was toting her luggage to her dorm room, she passed her roommate, who was on her way out.
"Welcome back," Mary Elizabeth said, buttoning up her Versace coat.
"Same to you," Kaylee replied. "You going somewhere?"
"I have a date."
"With Ozzy, the guy who took you to the Christmas celebration at Paddy's Pub?"
"Hell, no! That was last month. I'm going out with Marco. I really like him. He just might last until Valentine's Day."
Once her clothes were unpacked and put away, Kaylee turned on the television and opened the Ziploc bag containing what remained of the Christmas cookies she and her mother had baked. As she nibbled on a lemon meltaway, she noticed a pale pink envelope being slipped beneath her door.
What the ...?
She crossed the room and looked out into the hall. No one was there.
"Hello?" she called, but there was no answer.
She bent down, picked up the envelope and saw her name written on the front of it. The penmanship was exquisite as though it had been written by a professional calligrapher. When she turned the envelope over, she saw a daub of red sealing wax on the flap; the sender had used an old-fashioned stamp to imprint a design into it, one that resembled an old-world coat of arms.
There's something inside, she realized, feeling an unknown object between the two pieces of pink paper.
When she ripped open the envelope, a metal key fell into her hand. Her heart raced with anticipation as she pulled out the single sheet of ivory-colored stationery and unfolded it. It beat even faster as she read what was written on it in the same formal handwriting.
"'There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.' Bram Stoker. Dracula."
This key, Kaylee theorized with mounting excitement, must unlock the door to Hill House!
It was clearly an invitation of some kind. After only a brief moment of hesitation, she grabbed her coat and ran out the door. She was so eager to see Devon again that she did not notice her Subaru was no longer in the student lot where she had parked it. Not that it would have mattered if she had. Her head was so filled with romantic notions that she was incapable of rational thought. It was as though an unknown force was luring her to a predestined fate.
Unmindful of the greetings called to her by returning classmates, she kept her head facing forward and her eyes on the towering gothic building in the distance. The closer she got to Hill House, the darker the sky became and the eerier the atmosphere until it seemed more like Transylvania than Massachusetts. Despite it being just after noon, total darkness engulfed her when she arrived at her destination.
There was a second pale pink envelope taped to the front door. Again, her name was on the front, but it was not written in elegant calligraphy; nor was there sealing wax on the back.
Kaylee ripped it open and read, "I made but one resolution for this new year, and it has come true now that you are here."
Who invited me? Devon, Xavier or both of them?
With no thought to her safety, she put the key in the lock and turned it. When the heavy wooden door gave way under the pressure of her shoulder, she saw both the founders and leaders of the Dorian Gray Brotherhood standing side by side at the base of a massive stone staircase.
"I take it you're expecting me," she said.
Devon stepped forward and took her hand in his.
"'Beauty is everywhere a welcome guest.' Johann Wolfgang von Goethe."
Not to be outdone, Xavier walked to her side and took her other hand.
"Come and dine with us tonight, and we will offer you such delight."
Many young women might have been frightened when the heavy wooden door closed, shutting her inside the menacing Hill House, but Kaylee never suspected that behind Xavier Caine's playful blue eyes, blond hair and dimpled smile, something dark lurked in the all-American boy. He, along with Devon Usher, led her to a grand banquet hall, furnished with an oversized table surrounded by at least a dozen heavy wooden medieval-era chairs.
"This looks like the setting for a Renaissance faire," she laughed. "But if this is dinner, where is the food?"
Xavier suddenly backed away, and Devon put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her so that they stood face-to-face.
"'Eyes which feast on the beauty of the world,'" he said solemnly, "'will always look beautiful to others. That which receives beauty exudes it as well.' Vironika Tugaleva."
Then he leaned forward, and Kaylee closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss. Her knees went weak as she felt his lips brush against her neck. Moments later, however, that sweet feeling of surrender turned to agony as Devon's teeth sunk into her flesh.
As the vampire slaked his thirst, Xavier, his body now covered in thick animal hair, laughed and recited one last ridiculously amateur poem before his unwary dinner guest swooned and lost consciousness: "There is not roast, nor pie, nor stew. The sole thing on the menu is you."
Once he was finished dining, Devon Usher handed the girl's blood-drained corpse to the werewolf beside him. Xavier greedily devoured the choicest, most tender and tasty parts of the victim's body, placing what was left on the long wooden banquet table for the other members of the Dorian Gray Brotherhood to devour.
Salem once thought of becoming a poet, but he couldn't think of a word to rhyme with meow.
