"She had a little place right around the corner from our hotel."
"Was that the one ? The devil-worshipping chick?"
"The very one. I don't know if she was a devil-worshipper per se, but she wasn't a Jehovah's Witness. Some kind of witchy thing, definitely."
Ernie's daughter plays guitar, just like her legendary daddy. She (and the rest of her band, as well) also consider themselves to be of the blood, just like her mother. They're convinced that ritual, sacrifice, and invocations to the forces unseen will guarantee them rock and roll fame. Cal is appalled, but happy-go-lucky Ernie ignores their good-luck charms and their talk of foretellings satisfied and prophecies yet to be fulfilled.
"Who cares what they believe?" the proud papa tells his drummer. "As long as you don't start believing it and I don't start believing it. This chick wanted to have my kid. She wanted to make another great musician, just like me. The least we can do is help out the band."
Cal doesn't care too much for the band, and even less for the witchcraft, but Ernie's daughter is beautiful and talented, so he decides to go along for the ride.
The ride quickly turns bumpy, but the supernatural is just a fairytale to the once-famous drummer and guitarist.
"All that mumbo-jumbo only works if you believe in it in the first place, right? Like voodoo dolls?"
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