The Seers never actually spoke, as Claude recalled. And they always appeared alone. But, here were two of them in the alley before him, clad in their macabre robes made of what appeared to be slightly smoldering sack cloth that faded in and out of darkness at random. 

"Lookaloo ..... loookalooo..." the sinister half-whispers in Claude’s head repeated over and over... Seers were capable of telepathy of a sort, but usually it did not manifest as spoken language... it sounded vaguely like him to a career smoker on a respirator whispering through an electric fan.. 

"Lookawhat?? What the hell is that??" Claude asked the nearly motionless Seers.

One, the thinner of the two, reached up with a blackened limb and scrawled - well, seared, a single word into the aged brick of the alley wall. 

"Loup". 

"Loup", repeated Claude. "Okay. Wolf. What about it?" he inquired, getting not a little frustrated with the arcane clairvoyants... 

He looked to the other one hoping for some sort of response. It had already waddled its slightly rotund form over to the other side of the alley and was slowly, agonizingly burning another word into the brick at a painful, glacial pace. 

"Gar .... Gar..." he read as the Seer finished its word.

"Garou. Loup. Garou. Merde."

Claude’s blood froze.