Loving the Succubus

Daemon Hospital

"Marfa, what's going on?" Picasso demanded after his girl was strapped in the ambulance. The EMT nodded in encouragement. 

"Aye, better you now from my mouth than by camera flashes," Marfa sighed and explained it all.

Marfa's full title was Marfa no-Izanami, Aksha Prima, or roughly translated into English, Crown Princess of the land of Yomi, City of Perdition, Gehenna, the Daemon Realm. She also performed as a rock musician under the stage name of Kali Pham.

Picasso knew her story. Everyone did. Kali had disappeared four years ago, at her peak. Something to do with a tempestuous relationship with The Weeknd, and was blamed for that Middle Eastern dude leaving One Direction. Plus rumored relationships with a couple of past Idol contestants, some UFC fighters, and flings with strangers at bars, a few who blabbed to the press. 

She was found four years later, enrolled in an art school in upstate New York, just a week away from graduating. That is, until the press found out and she was kicked out. Last he had heard, Kali had gone back to The Weeknd, and reports said she was working on a comeback record. Come to think about it, that was six months before they met. 

Picasso believed her-Marfa was a forthright person, known for her blunt and honest, albeit odd, manner of speech-but he had to see for himself. He pulled out his smartphone, typed in Kali Pham, and looked at the images.

Alot of images of Marfa, dolled up in black and crimson fetishwear-Kali's trademark stage attire-on a stage, wailing into a microphone, or on a red carpet on the arm of either The Weeknd, a rather uncomfortable-looking Justin Bieber (one of Kali's rumored exes, their breakup said to having triggered that year he acted like an entitled shit), or either Ronda Rousey or Dana White, President of the UFC, playfully wrestling. So it wasn't a coincidence Rowdy Ronda Rousey was in the same restaurant as her.

"She is very much human, I assure you," Marfa said, as if reading Picasso's mind. 

"Don't they ban your people from being in pro sports?" Picasso asked.

"Aye, unfair advantage, they say," Marfa replied. "Our blood is hard to test, say others." 

"Was the guy who beat you up...one of your exes?" Picasso asked, changing the subject. Then it dawned on him. 

"His name is Zayn Malik, formerly of the band One Direction, now a failed solo artist," Marfa said, answering his next thought. She sighed. "The Directioners were...most displeased at his departure, dubbed me Yoko." 

"Yeah, I hear he fucking threw you under the bus, man," Picasso replied.

"A most appropriate summation of the events of those dark days, beloved." Marfa chuckled.

"Zalli" was considered the ultimate union of musical genres: the controversial heavy metal singer-songwriter and the bad boy of the most popular British boy band of the time.  

But the ironic thing was that while her Devotees-as her fans affectionately called themselves-loved the idea that their idol was making a pop star her "bitch", the Directioners weren't, a fact not helped by the fact Kali had no qualms about openly expressing her disdain at how insane she thought they were.

"I'm sure you have heard all about our tragic parting," Marfa said.

"Bits and pieces," he admitted. "Not a big fan of boy bands. The bits and pieces I know because I have a niece who's into that shit."

Marfa weakly chuckled. "Then I shall tell you my side of events. Behold, the Tale of Zalli!"