She takes a prideful step over your threshold, but the moment Lillian sets a foot on Lang's welcome mat her body starts convulsing with seizures. For a moment, it looks like she's going to cry out, but she gets her pain under control quickly after falling to shuddering knees. She lifts her head and stares at you with eyes like glowing embers.
"You'll wish you were never Embraced, childe," she seethes. "That, I promise you." Those fierce eyes widen a bit when Lang steps around the corner. His left palm is slick with dark red Blood.
"You've caught up with me at last," Lang says with a sniff. He's pulled back his hood and any sign of Blood-sweat has been wiped clean. Somehow he manages to look like he's been fully in control of himself the whole time. "Don't try to move, Lillian. Not that there's much chance of that after what you've just been through."
Lang closes the door before kneeling down and pressing his bloodied hand against Lillian's face, curling long fingers around to grip her by the hair. She screeches and tries to pull away, but in her weakened state she's unable to break his grip. A sizzling sound fills the room as Lang's weaponized vitae eats away at her skin. When he finally pulls back, there's a hand-shaped scorch mark on Lillian's cheek peppered with tiny blisters. She's panting like a mortal and doing everything in her power to keep from collapsing. The wound doesn't seem to be mending; if anything it's getting worse.
"Not to over-step…" Gerard says cautiously—you're not sure if his words are directed at you, Lang, or both of you. "…but if this woman is one of the targets for the Sheriff's Blood Hunt, it may be a good idea to plan what to do with her before she's found here."
Lang looks at you. "Is your ghoul always so brazen?"
"He's practical and he's rarely steered me wrong," you say. "Besides, he has a point. What are we doing with her?"
He kneels down and picks up the warded cloth, folding it neatly and placing it back in his pack as he considers your question.