To start with, there are now eight Bells. Pattern isn't bringing anyone besides herself, and Aegis no one besides herself and her Whistle, but everyone else -
Between Alice, the Joker, the rescued Queenie, Kas, Micaiah, and Sue, plus Ghosty who Amariah picked up on her way home, that's seven Whistles. (Stella thinks ahead: there is a soundproofed orgy chamber away from the main party awning. With a few nodes off of it in case more than one orgy forms; she can think of at least two other likely ones.)
There's an equally absurd number of Sherlocks and Tonies if you count them together. They have Juliet's matched set, Shell Bell's matched set, two other matched sets from Bell-less worlds (one with souled vampire, one both human), a stray Tony, and a stray Sherlock from Downside.
Amariah grabbed a random Libby on top of the random extra Whistle, but at least she's not incorporating anyone from home.
Golden's bringing much of her family and many of her friends - although Edward is staying home, that still leaves Elspeth and Jacob, Alice and Jasper with little Brandon, Rosalie and Emmett and little Henry, Nathan accompanying his mate and their child Kerron, Esme and Carlisle and their Lily, Addy, and Elena who'll get to see her brother. Golden claims that this is a conservative list and she could easily have produced another twenty enthusiastic guests. Stella doesn't doubt it. She puts up a few signs reading Please Conduct Adult Conversation Only Via Brainphone. Little Half-Vampires Have Good Ears And Perfect Memories. As a last-minute surprise, Golden has taken Elspeth's suggestion to bring Edward's deceased mother Elizabeth, too.
Juliet has, on top of her boyfriend and his - progenitor? - her tiny Libby, James, a tagalong thereto called Virginia, and a ghost called Minnie, plus Giles.
Angela's list is more modest: her, her husband, and their friends Alleluia and Caleb.
Shell Bell is responsible for half the Sherlocks-and-Tonies all by herself, a tagalong called Pepper, and also someone called Darcy and also Matilda. (Shell Bell is also the reason Angela is not inviting her brother-in-law.)
Stella herself is responsible for inviting Libby, Orfeo, Chris, Mary, Anna, Sandy, Eights, Chainsaw, Lazarus, Kolya (who is informed that it would be awfully inconvenient for a majority of Bells to all have to coordinate on pretending he doesn't exist when only one of them has even met him to be able to identify him in the first place, so he can simply stay home if he's planning to be hidey), and Bridget.
Stella sets up a name tag system. Everyone will have a tag stuck to them. Solo persons - a minority - will just have their names. People with template names and nicknames will have both stamped on automatically. ("Hi! I'm a Bell, and you can call me Stella!"; "Hi! I'm a Whistle, and you can call me Alice!" "Hi! I'm a Sherlock, and I don't have a distinguishing nickname yet but as soon as I pick one it will appear here!")
She conjures up a nice buffet of food and beverages which will stay its correct temperature until consumed, and assorted synthetics for the vampires (labeled not for human consumption), and dishes and flatware (all glass; even some of the food-eating guests might dissolve anything else) and fusses with the awning opacity until it lets in just the right amount of sun, and, what the hell, she throws in a stage in case Angela wants to sing or she decides to play the flute or someone decides to pentagon some other performative skill to entertain the crowd. She makes sure there are enough bathrooms for all the people who still need bathrooms.
She puts out a few tables here and there with little bowls of squares and triangles - a mix of her glowing red and Alice's shifty black - in them for everyone's convenience. She accumulates coins in those sizes faster than she generally uses them and has a great many, so there are plenty for anyone to dip and wish if something comes up. She double-checks to make sure the Martian ground rules prohibit any misuses available for those size coins.
Jane gets one of those high-tech holographic projectors, on wheels, which she promptly manifests in, drives around the floor, and makes faces through.
"Are you this unforthcoming with Juliet, too? Geez, you must have other really sterling qualities."
(She is, Giles may notice, the youngest Bell in attendance.)
"Well, she won't tell me if it's legit personal and there's no conceivable use for the information on my end," says Aegis, "there's that."
"On the other hand, if the information has ever touched a computer, Jane'll tell me regardless 'cause I'm her mom."
"I didn't say I was going to ask her! But the vast majority of people who've made it their business to keep shit secret from me were hiding facts like 'we have been reading your diary since you were four' and 'that computer game you've been playing is a psychological evaluation tool' and 'the asshole who knocked your head into the corner of your bunk and could've given you brain damage was actually a plant and we could've stopped him anytime but we didn't' and 'we're graduating you early to use you as leverage against your best friend' and 'that game you just played involved real soldiers, four of whom died after giving up their lives on Earth to relativistic space travel and didn't know they were putting their lives in the hands of fifteen- and sixteen-year olds, and we were never going to tell you but our psychologists convinced us it was strategically necessary'. And I don't like it."
"Compared to anybody who isn't minted and flush with coins, all of us might as well be omnipotent. If we want to bad enough, we can do anything. You'll have better luck trying to manage what we want. We've got good ethics but not perfect ones."
"There's this thing we do," says Aegis. "We ask ourselves: What do I want? What do I have? How can I use the latter to get the former? And having more power lets us be more precise and nicer and more ethical at getting only what we want and not any extras that we don't need that we might not really, truly want. And we don't want to hurt people, or go around needlessly violating other people's privacy and autonomy, and with wishcoins we can avoid it even if something very, very important that might ordinarily conflict with those things is on the line. But at the end of the day it always comes down to what we want. Angela's god is false and Amariah's don't care and mine's probably going to send me a Mother's Day card - we answer to ourselves. I don't think wanting to know things that have no obvious application would ever tend to trump others' personal privacy. But if something were going to... curiosity is high up on things that motivate Bells. I'm not trying to scare you. I do think Juliet must like you, I'm not planning to pry into your head, and you aren't from my jurisdiction anyway. But for keeping conversations a little friendlier than this one turned out, you could consider not being conspicuously, temptingly opaque."
Juliet chooses this moment to wander by. "This looks distressingly hostile," she says. "What's happened?"
"...Oof. Uh, I wasn't linked up and don't know you as well as the others do, are there special circumstances or are you garden-variety thereabouts?"
"Far as I know, no one has ever kept a significant secret from me specifically, that wasn't both relevant and being kept for reasons contrary to my interests, there's that," says Aegis.
"Okay. Maybe when your Whistle comes out you wanna ask him about getting a mindreading install like how Stella and Angela and Shell Bell have. And don't mind Giles. I think he gets it about relevant information. Giles, what's your half?"
And to Aegis, he adds: "This information has nothing to do with you. Its only conceivable use to anyone, besides making me uncomfortable every time it comes up, is to corroborate a warning that a kind of magic you are never going to study has nasty pitfalls that almost certainly wouldn't affect you anyway."
"Also, reminding me of it could prompt me to ask if there's anyone you want pulled from the afterlife," Juliet says archly.